Phantasm
by Colorful Crayola
Summary: When Nichole and her friends venture into the forest to find something that crashed in their Estes Park home, they find more than debris lurking in those woods. Now she finds herself trapped on an alien ship, fighting for her life. Her very survival hinges on the capabilities of a single intergalactic warrior and her own tenacity. [Under Revision]
1. Preface

**Hello, readers!**

**Please enjoy these changes to Phantasm. I recently realized that it could be so much better, so I've revisited it and revamped it. The chapters will be longer, hopefully better, and I've started it off with a bit more build-up than before. These first three chapters are going to be completely different from how you remember, but hopefully it's improved. :)**

**This chapter is updated as of 11/13/2015**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Preface

Harness the light

_ Have to get out._

The gaping hole in his chest dripped gore to the waiting floor below. I was afraid the creature would come back, but I heard no more of its pitiful squeaks or cat-like hisses. It hadn't looked dangerous, but I knew the thing it turned into would be.

Static and cotton filled my head, blurring my thoughts together. He'd given me advice, told me how to escape, but there was only one thing on my mind. He was _dead_.

His rib-cage had snapped open like brittle twigs.

He was still twitching next to me on the wall. The coppery tint of his blood mixed with the pungent scent of mildew.

My lungs refused to take in oxygen.

_Have to get out._

Unable to focus, my eyes darted unseeing about the room. I drew in ragged breath after ragged breath, always on the cusp of hyperventilating. The danger was ever-present in the back of my mind no matter how panic threatened to drown me—eggs. There were so many of them, and each held a single parasitic organism. Each was ready to latch onto my face, much like the ones obscuring the features of those around me.

Why hadn't I listened?

The lieutenant visiting school to warn us away.

Military trucks driving toward the forest.

Park rangers and hikers going missing hours after the crash.

My friends were all gone.

_My fault._

Why hadn't we listened? This wasn't a game. It wasn't fun. It wasn't _any_ of the things we thought it was going to be. Had we really been so delusional to think we'd be able to find and rescue _anyone_? Yeah, sure, we were going to be _internet famous_. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Now they were dead—_my fault_—and I was going to be soon, as well.

_Have to get out._

I hadn't known anything in life to be more real than the situation I was in. The eggs—real. An alien ship had crash-landed, not any airplane. The monsters that had chased me and my friends through the woods were real.

Those dead men and women, each missing a section of their chest. . .all real.

And the egg in front of me was real.

Even the spindly creature writhing inside was real.

So much did I want it all to be part of a horrible nightmare. I couldn't deny the reality of my situation any longer, and my heart threatened to explode. The flaps atop the pulsating ova's crest peeled back. Emaciated limbs mounted the top.

This was it.

This was how I was going to die.

_Fuck._


	2. Up on the Mountain

**Hello, readers!**

**That's right, this chapter is going to have entirely new content. We get to see a little bit more of what happened before Nichole and Co went into the woods! I hope it's less in-your-face exposition than the original chapter one. I'd like to take a special moment as well to thank Citrine Nebulae for helping and supporting my decision to do this full-scale rewrite. **

**This chapter is updated as of 11/13/2015.**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter One

Up on the Mountain

It was too early.

School was always too fucking early.

Why couldn't it be at nine or ten instead eight? Or not at all? Yeah, I liked that. Not at all. Why hadn't anyone ever thought of that before?

I rolled over with a groan and searched the nightstand for my phone. My fingers brushed it and I lifted my head, eyes squinted. Too far. Too early, too far. I heaved myself forward and used my fingertips to bring it closer before shutting off the alarm.

The grating bell noise ceased and I dropped back into bed without moving back into position. The snooze would go off soon enough, let it do its thing.

Ten seconds later, someone tapped on my door. I pulled my comforter over my head and shut my eyes tight_. Go away, go away._ There was only one person it could be, and this was a weekly thing with her. She meant well, but _go away_.

But, she didn't.

"Nichole? Nichole are you awake sweetie?" Mom cooed through the door.

_Ignore her, ignore her. Five more minutes. Plenty of time._

My door opened and every swear I knew flit through my mind. I tracked her soft footfalls to the edge of my bed and heaved an internal sigh when she touched my shoulder.

"Sweetie?"

She pulled my comforter over my face and brushed my hair back from my face. "It's time to wake up for school, baby girl," she whispered, kissing the top of my head.

"Mo-o-om," I rasped, throat dry from sleep. "I have my alarm set."

Mom made herself comfortable on my bed and picked up my phone. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. Are you going to have enough time to get ready, though?"

"Yes."

"Alright honey." I could hear the smile in her voice. "Don't sleep too much longer. Do you need a ride to school?"

"No."

At last, her weight was removed from my bed. "Okay, I'll see you after school okay? I have to take Alan to school so I'll be leaving now."

"Okay."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

My door clicked shut and I dragged the comforter over my head again. The snooze sounded too-soon afterwards; I groaned and sat up to turn it off. It took minutes to dress myself (I showered before bed to avoid waking up even earlier), and then I headed downstairs to the kitchen for some food. I couldn't stop yawning.

Atlas greeted me at the bottom, his whole body swaying with the force of his tail wag. I smiled and crouched in front of him, accepting his morning kisses with a scrunched face. "Who's a good boy?" I crooned, scratching his ears. He gave me one last lick, then ran to his water dish.

Kristie was at the dining table, a bowl of cereal in front of her. I grabbed a bagel from the fridge, then waited by the counter for it to toast.

"Morning," I yawned.

"Morning," she muttered.

"You getting a ride from one of your friends?"

"Yup." I didn't miss the eye roll.

Neither of us were morning people, so I left the conversation at that.

The bagel popped and I searched the fridge for the cream cheese—I found it behind the butter tub. My phone buzzed in my pocket while I applied the cream cheese, but I ignored the cell until my hands were free. When I looked, it was a text from Michelle.

_Omw. Eta 2 min._

I poured a glass of milk and sat in my chair next to Kristie. Atlas laid between our chairs with a huff. We finished our respective breakfasts in silence, finishing close to the same time. My phone vibrated again as I finished brushing my teeth, and I assumed it was Michelle. I grabbed my school supplies from their place in my room and called out into the house.

"I'm leaving, lock up when you leave!"

"Okay!"

Michelle's Dodge Neon was already in front of my house and the horn honked a second before I opened the door. "I'm coming, god damn," I muttered. Her passenger seat was empty so I insinuated myself inside and placed my backpack on the floor between my legs. When I buckled up, she drove.

"Hey girl," she greeted me. Too enthusiastic. _Morning people_.

"Morning," I said after suppressing a yawn. "Jess need a ride today?"

"Yeah, I'm going to pick her up now. Your mom and dad leave already?"

"Sure did." I leaned back in my seat and let Michelle's inane chatter wash over me. Maybe if I was lucky, I could sneak in a short nap during the drive over.

*:･ﾟ✧

There weren't many main roads in Estes Park. Only Highway 34 and 36 led out of town—the others led to hiking trails or neighborhoods. We had become accustomed to strangers driving in and out: between the trails and park, the town saw many tourists.

Tourists, however, didn't drive military-grade trucks. There was one such caravan driving through the center of town that Friday morning.

"Are we under siege?" Michelle scoffed.

I rolled my eyes and laid on the sarcasm. "That's probably exactly what's going on."

The trucks zipped past our car in a convoy with half a dozen trucks. The red light seemed like it would never turn green, the train of cars never ending.

Jess leaned toward us from the back seat. "Do you think it's about the thing that crashed?"

"What crash?"

"Oh shit," Michelle gasped, drowning out my question, "you're probably right."

"What crash?" I asked louder.

The light turned green at last and Michelle pulled forward. She glanced at me side-long and said, "Are you serious right now? How could you not know? It's been all over the news this morning!"

It was too early in the morning for her nonsense. I let another yawn take me away before I responded. "I don't watch the news, sorry. I woke up like five minutes before you showed up at my house, anyway."

"Well there's _no_ _way_ you could have slept through it," Michelle insisted.

"Slept through _what_? What crashed?"

"Woke me up," Jess muttered.

When I was ready to slap a bitch, Michelle deigned to elaborate. "Something crashed in the middle of the night. Somewhere in the mountain nearby, past the park. I thought the world was ending! Did you seriously not wake up at all?"

I shook my head and rested against my seat. "Nope. Slept like a baby all night."

"Christ you must be a heavy sleeper."

"My mom always said I could sleep through a tornado."

Michelle huffed and turned into the high school. "Well, check your Facebook! I'm sure you can find a billion pictures and links to the news reports and shit."

"Yeah okay, I'll get right on that."

She parked and we all clambered out of her car, carrying our bags. There was a larger concentration of our classmates than usual in front of the entrance, so we met up with them. I pulled my jacket closer and hunched up against the chill. The group was huddled around Jake and his tablet. As we neared, various sounds wafted toward us.

Michelle pranced up to him, then wedged herself between him and the others. "Are you guys watching it? How's the quality?" She clasped her hands around his waist.

"Shaky but watchable," he responded, pausing long enough to peck her on the cheek.

Jess and I took up our spots in the crowd and tried to take a peek. The video ended as soon as we arrived, and we were only able to see semi-blurry shapes moving around.

"Restart it babe! We missed it," Michelle whined, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She was less dressed than the rest of us despite the weather. If we went inside to watch, though, we'd earn a scolding from the first teacher who saw us. We were only safe outside.

Jake obliged tapped the replay button. There was some fumbling and muffled static until the picture cleared. The man holding the camera shouted and turned the lens skyward.

A massive fireball careened from the sky, lighting the dark night in an eerie glow of orange and red. My eyes widened and I moved closer, the cold forgotten for a moment. Whoever filmed the phenomenon had broken all the rules of phone recording. Not only was the video unstable, but it was also vertical. Beggars can't be choosers, though. After a few seconds, the flames flickered and faded, leaving a vague shape instead—huge. Whatever it was, it was massive. After that, it disappeared into the tree line and the earth trembled from impact.

All the while, the camera man shouted various exclamations and questions. The video continued for a few more seconds, the night still and quiet.

"What the hell?" I whispered.

Someone from behind pointed their finger at the screen. "That looks like something burned up in re-entry."

"What?" Jake glanced over his shoulder, brows furrowed.

"Yeah! Like, re-entry. When something breaks into our atmosphere."

Mutters broke out, but the crowd was beginning to disperse. I shuffled toward the door as well, no longer willing to stand out in the cold. However, Jake's next question still made it to my ears before I made it inside.

"How would you know that? It could be something exploded."

Whatever the answer was, it was drowned out by the warning bell. Jess scurried along at my shoulder, cheeks and nose rosy from the biting chill.

"What do you think it was?" she asked me.

I said nothing while concentrating on opening my locker. When it was open, I said, "I don't know. I hope it wasn't a commercial flight exploding or something. I don't think anyone would have survived that."

She sighed and opened her own locker, two away from mine. "Yeah, definitely."

"I don't think it would be, though. The military wouldn't be showing up for a commercial flight. Maybe a jet crashed."

Jess shrugged. "Maybe more information will be released later."

"Yeah. . .maybe."

We gathered our belongings for our first period (both Jess and I shared morning economics) and hurried up the stairs. I sat in my seat at the same time the final bell rang. Ignoring Mr. Kinkaid's greeting, I spent a moment setting up my notebook and texts.

_Re-entry_. The phrase repeated over in my head as the lecture on stock markets droned on. Had a shuttle or a satellite crashed?

Or maybe. . .a spaceship? I smirked. _Wishful thinking_.

*:･ﾟ✧

The familiar voice of our principal interrupted my regularly scheduled second period English class. I kept scribbling while she crackled over the intercom.

"Good morning Bobcats. At this time we will be holding a mandatory assembly. I apologize for interrupting your classes, but it is very important that everyone attends. Once again, we are going to be holding a mandatory assembly. Please make your way to the gymnasium promptly. Thank you."

My classroom was awash with the sounds of scraping chairs and annoyed groans. I set down my pencil and stood with the rest, then followed them out into the hall.

Once inside the gym, I searched the bleachers for any familiar faces.

Michelle, now dressed in gym class attire, was waiting at the top of the bleachers. I bounded up the steps to sit next to her and she scooted over for me.

"What's this about?" I asked.

She shrugged and smoothed out her pony tail. "No clue, but whatever gets me out of playing volleyball is fine with me."

"Oh, we're doing volleyball this month? That's cool,"

"Please." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Give me a game where I can smack something real hard with a bludgeon."

I chuckled. "That's a violent way to think about it."

"Got a lotta aggression to work out," she teased, flexing her non-existent arm muscles.

"What's the difference between smacking something with a racket and slapping a ball with your hands?" I reasoned while scanning the crowd for Jess.

"Um, everything? Smacking that thing hurts my hands and wrists and I _always_ get hit in the head at some point or another. It's the worst. I don't know how you can stand in the goal box during a game, knowing you could be kicked or take a ball to the face at any time," she huffed.

"I have confidence in my skills," I shrugged.

Students continued to file into the gymnasium. Jess trailed in with the third wave, and I stood to wave at her. She smiled when she saw me and climbed the steps.

"Hey," she greeted us.

Michelle and I returned her sentiment, though Michelle wasn't giving us her full attention. That was dedicated to finding her boyfriend. Jake and his friends joined us soon enough, and we were all atwitter about the events of the past night. When the principal appeared and called for silence, it took a few minutes for the crowd to fall quiet.

"Good morning, Bobcats. How is everyone doing today?" Our principal, Mrs. Larsen, spoke into the microphone perched on its stand.

A few of the die-hard patriots muttered a response, but no one else bothered. Mrs. Larsen ignored our apathy and clapped her hands together. "Good, good. I'm sure you're all wondering why we've called this emergency assembly, and we'll try to keep this short."

"Is it about the thing that crashed?" someone from the senior side of the bleachers shouted.

Mrs. Larsen lifted her hand to shush him, then indicated toward a man in army fatigues. He stood at the back of the gym and nodded. "We have a guest speaker today who would like to address everyone about the events that took place last night. Please give a warm welcome to Lieutenant Anderson and _be polite_."

A few more than ten people clapped for our guest speaker, and the lieutenant stepped up to the microphone. He adjusted the stand, then looked up at us all to speak.

"Hello students. My name is Lieutenant Anderson and I'm with the National Guard. Thank you for having me today and gathering so quickly." The soldier cleared his throat and scanned the stands. "I'm sure most of you are aware that something crashed in the nearby woods late last night, hours before dawn."

Murmurs broke out until Lieutenant Anderson waved his hands and everyone settled. "Your principal has agreed to print out a newsletter to give you all. Please take it home and show it to your parents immediately."

"What was it?" the same senior from before shouted.

"I'm afraid that's classified at the moment," he said, his voice sharp. "However, due to the several disappearances that have happened over the past eight hours, the national park will be closed until we can clean up the mess and track down the missing persons."

He spent the next few minutes trying to quiet us down. I turned to my friends and whispered, "People disappeared? Who?"

Michelle and Jess looked clueless, but Jake's friend had lost all the color from his face.

Jake glanced between everyone, then put his hand on Tyler's shoulder and addressed us. "A few rangers went missing I guess, maybe some campers."

"How do you know?" Jess asked.

"Bobcats please!" Mrs. Larsen interjected, her voice booming over the microphone. "There is no need for you to worry! The lieutenant and the rest of the National Guard will take care of everything. Settle down and let our guest finish."

Tyler cleared his throat and I glanced at him. His hands were fists against his legs. I said, "Maybe they haven't come back yet. It only happened a little bit ago, they can't have _disappeared_."

"Maybe," Michelle and Jake muttered together.

After another stern command from Mrs. Larsen, the chatter petered out into silence.

"We're asking everyone to _stay out_ of the woods until further notice. We'll be setting up a perimeter, and anyone found encroaching will be turned away and anyone found on the other side of that boundary or in the woods without permission _will_ be arrested and detained for 24 hours."

Next to us, Jake scoffed and crossed his arms. Michelle brushed against and shushed him, but he had a devious smile on his face. Tyler was glaring at his lap, his face red.

I tore my gaze from them to listen to the lieutenant. "We will not tolerate anyone bothering the rest of my soldiers, either. We expect everyone to take this seriously, and if you do not you will be dealt with swiftly and severely. Thank you."

When he stepped away from the microphone, the principal replaced him. "Lieutenant Anderson is right, students. Anyone they catch will also be facing suspension or even expulsion. This is very serious. Expect those newsletters before the end of the day. Now, please return to your classes in a timely manner."

A clamor settled over the stands as everyone spoke at once. Jake leaned on top of Michelle and grinned. "I think we should find out what's in the forest."

"What? No way!" Michelle squeaked, slapping his shoulder.

Our group remained seated while the rest of the students filed out of the gym. Jake wrapped his arms around Michelle's center and set his chin on top of her head. "I'm totally serious. We'll figure out that secret."

"And how do you suppose we do that, babe?"

"You mean like. . . ." I paused to glance around and make sure there were no teachers listening in. "Go out into the woods and look for what crashed?"

He nodded to me and grinned. "Yeah, see. Nichole gets it."

"That's not a good idea," Jess warned. "What if someone gets hurt or we end up arrested and in jail like the guy said?"

Michelle snickered. "When has anything exciting like this happened? The only problems we have here are people getting gored by elk or lost in the woods. This could be something that puts us on the map for this dumb town!"

"We already _are_ on the map," I argued. "People are always visiting!"

"Whatever you say. I'm with Jake."

His friends chimed in as well, even Tyler, who was still tight-fisted next to Jake. "I'll go. Maybe I'll be able to find my dad."

My heart went out to him, but he seemed more angry than worried.

"What's the plan, babe?" Michelle asked, expression smug. She and her boyfriend parted when a teacher gave them the stink-eye.

The teacher huffed and beckoned toward us. "Go back to your classes. This isn't social hour."

Jake smirked at him and then lowered his voice further. "We'll talk about it at lunch."

Eyes rolling, I turned to Jess and stood. "Have fun playing volleyball, Michelle," I teased, ambling down the bleachers.

She glanced down at Coach Jenner setting the nets back up and grimaced. "Dammit, why couldn't this stupid assembly have gone on longer? Ugh. . . . Well, catch you guys at lunch," she grumbled. Michelle kissed Jake at the bottom of the bleachers and joined the rest of the students in her course. Though we parted from Jake and his friends, Jess trailed after me.

"Are you going to go with them? The principal said anyone caught by the woods would be suspended and stuff."

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I guess I'll have to hear Jake's 'plan' first. But I guess it could be kinda fun. We'd just have to not get caught. And if playing Manhunt is any indication of our prowess, I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Yeah but," she said in exasperation, "we play that against each other, not trained soldiers. And we're always in the cul-de-sac, not out in the woods!"

"Just means more places to hide," I ribbed, pushing her shoulder.

Jess scowled and stopped in front of her classroom. "Whatever. I guess I'll see you at lunch."

"You betcha. I never miss pizza day." I smiled and she managed to return the gesture despite her obvious trepidation. "It'll be okay. I'm sure no one will follow through with this crazy scheme anyway. See you later!"

As she disappeared into her class, I turned and headed toward my own and wondered what kind of bright ideas Jake had for us this time.

*:･ﾟ✧

The teachers did their best to conduct class as normal, but despite their best efforts, we couldn't bring ourselves to pay attention. We spent most of our time passing notes about the incident, or whispering to one another. Never about the course material, either. The crash was all we thought about.

Even if the teacher managed to bring us back, it never lasted long.

When the final bell rang, I worked on shoving my things into my backpack as the teacher went over the homework. She shouted over the rowdy students, and I hurried to write down what she wanted us to do. After saying what she'd meant to, she released us.

I filed out after the rest and was swept up in the tide. When I reached my locker, I broke the crowd to grab a few things.

"Hey, Nichole," Jess said, tapping me on the back. I glanced at her and tipped my head in greeting as she opened her own locker. "What's your plan after school today? Any soccer practice or anything like that?"

"No practice until spring, around March. It's the off-season now. If we had an indoor arena we'd maybe do one practice a week, but. . .no such luck."

"So who's driving you home? Michelle or your parents?"

"Oh." I found a place for my forgotten notebook in my backpack and zipped it shut. "My mom's gonna be picking me up, she called earlier and told me she was off work early."

"Ah, ok. Mine, too. Probably has something to do with the crash. Any plans for the weekend?"

We rejoined the wave of students heading toward the exit and I said,"Dunno yet. Have to see whether or not I'll be spending it in jail or dead.

Though I meant it as a joke, Jess didn't seem to find it funny and shot me a glare. I rolled my eyes and walked into her on purpose. "Oh come on, I'm kidding. Besides, you don't have to come if you don't want to."

"You already convinced me to go. I don't want to be left out."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," I pointed out. "But if we _do_ wind up in jail, you can just tell us you told us so. We'll tell them we kidnapped you or something, so they'll let you go."

She shook her head and forced a smile I saw right through. "Nah, it's fine. . .your best friend is the one sitting next to you in the cell and saying 'we had one hell of a night', right?" I wasn't sure if she was trying to convince me or herself.

I giggled and nodded in encouragement. "Damn right."

After saying our good-byes, we parted and I hurried into the parking lot. I pulled my jacket tight around my frame and looked for my mom's car. The tall, red Jeep stood out to me and I hopped into the passenger's side, surprised to see it empty.

"Where's Kristie?" I asked, my buckle snapping into place.

Mom backed the car up and joined the queue to leave. "She's staying over at a friend's house tonight, so they're taking her home."

Whatever, meant shotgun belonged to me.

"How was school?" she asked. Something told me she was asking a much different question.

"Fine. Pretty standard. Some guy from the military came and told everyone to stay out of the forest until they clean up what crashed." I dug around in my backpack until I found the sheet of paper I was looking for. "Everyone in school got this little newsletter about it."

Though she took it from me, she set it on her lap after a short glance. "Okay, I'll read it when we get home. Though I'm sure I already know what it's about."

"How?"

"They closed down the park. Can't sell parking passes if no one can get in. So, looks like I'll be home until the park opens again," she sighed.

Frowning, I asked, "Will you still get paid?"

She shook her head. "I can use my vacation time if I want, but otherwise no. They might compensate us, but I don't know."

"Well that's rude."

"That's business."

"What about Dad?"

"Your father doesn't work at the park," she said, giving me a strange look. "None of this will affect him. Unless maybe his boss went missing."

Shrugging, I muttered, "I was just wondering."

"And I was just telling you." Her voice was patronizing and she reached out to stroke my head. I ducked out of the way.

Mom scoffed and reached further over. "You let your mother touch you!"

"Mo-o-m!" I whined, batting her hand away.

She relented and slouched in her chair with a pout. "Fine."

Rolling my eyes, I turned to the window and stared at the road. It was going to be harder to leave the house unnoticed if Mom didn't work: she would stay up later than normal. The weekends were her busiest days at the park.

At least the plan was set for midnight. It was difficult, but doable. Mom wouldn't stay up that late, but she wouldn't be sound asleep like I'd been banking on, either. Dad always went to bed early so I wasn't worried about him.

I would have to make an extensive plan to sneak out unnoticed.


	3. The Warning Signs

**Hello readers!**

**If you're having trouble understanding how the text messages are formatted, please let me know and I'll try it a different way! :D If you need it, here's a little cheat sheet of the acronyms I use in this chapter and last:**

**OMW - On my way**

**ETA - Estimated time of arrival**

**BRT - be right there**

**Special thanks to my new friend Angel Commando for some of the ideas in this chapter. :) Your feedback was a lot of help! And of course I will always have a thanks to Citrine for looking over my chapters! You're both life savers! **

**This chapter is updated as of 11/13/2015**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Two

The Warning Signs

My phone buzzed around midnight, waking me up. I hadn't meant to fall asleep waiting for my mom to go to bed, but I hadn't been able to keep my eyes open. A glance at the clock on my nightstand informed me I had only been asleep for five or six minutes.

Rubbing my eyes, I pulled the comforter over my head to hide the light. I squinted as the backlit screen assaulted my eyes, and it took a few seconds for them to adjust. Somehow I was able to make out the words through the glare.

_Where r u? Did u chicken out? _

It was from Michelle. I lowered the blanket and checked the sliver under my door.

Everything was dark, but it had been only minutes ago the lights were on and Mom was watching television. I chewed on my lip and covered myself again to reply.

_One sec Mom just went to bed. Need a couple more minutes _

I set my phone on my chest and waited for it to buzz—ten seconds. I let it sit for a few more seconds while I listened for anything suspect going on downstairs or in the hall. Atlas shuffled around in his kennel, but there was no other signs of life outside my room.

Convinced I was safe, I picked up my phone and checked the text.

_Well hurry! I'm parked at the end of ur block _

_Alright brt_

To be safe, I waited another five minutes before crawling out of bed. I had picked out my clothes before bed, aiming for anything warm and dark. In the end I'd settled on my heavy, dark green winter jacket and a dark pair of jeans. The jeans alone weren't warm, so I put on a pair of long underwear used for our camping trips. It took an extra minute or two to dress in silence, and I slipped on my heavy hiking books. Tip-toeing to the door, I listened for sound.

Nothing. So far so good.

However, when I cracked my door open, the hinges whined in protest and I winced, ceasing all movement. After a brief pause to make sure no was coming to investigate, I closed the door behind me and strafed to the bathroom.

The light from the streetlamp outside shone inside the bathroom and I moved with confidence throughout the bathroom without the need to flip the switch. I shut myself inside and shuffled to the window, making sure to keep my footfalls light in my otherwise heavy shoes.

Inside the pocket to my jacket, my phone buzzed and I swore under my breath.

_? ? ?_

My friend was devoid any trace of patience. Sneaking out of the house was a skill in and of itself, taking time and perseverance. . .it was an art that shouldn't be rushed. I shook my head and jabbed at the keys on my phone.

_Hold on sneaking out now_

Rolling my eyes, I shoved the cell in my pocket with the intent to ignore it. I had a plan to execute and couldn't let anything distract me. Leaving out of my bedroom window would have been a straight two-story drop, but not from the bathroom. A section of the roof jutted out in front of it at an angle, giving me a shorter distance to the ground. The doors were a no-go, as well: Atlas would never let me leave that way without making a fuss.

It took a few moments for me to unscrew the screen, and I popped it out after some struggle. I wasn't able to catch it before it fell out and I clenched my eyes shut when it thumped against the roof. Everything was still for a moment, and then I scrambled to escape.

_Please let no one have heard that._

I climbed out of the small window, using the toilet to boost me up. It was too small to offer any comfort, and I ended up worming head-first onto the roof. My jacket snagged on a splinter during the task, but I was able to free it with a bit of dexterity and flexibility.

If anyone was watching, I no doubt looked ridiculous.

There was no way I could screw the screen back into its slot from where I stood. Instead, I set it against the glass once I'd closed the window. Satisfied it looked convincing enough, I crouched low and moved to the edge of the roof.

My heart thudding against my ribs as if to free itself. Every sound I made seemed amplified as I lowered myself to the roof, dangling by my hands.

_Hurry, someone's going to hear_.

There was a gap of a few feet below me, but I was confident I'd I could stick the landing. I counted to three, then dropped and hit the ground with minor discomfort and a slight ache in my ankles. Ignoring the pain, I jogged around the house and exited my backyard through the gate. Inside, Atlas was making chuffing noises, threatening to give me away. Once away from the back door, though, he ceased.

Hugging the wall of my house, I kept my body low and invisible. I jogged across the neighbor's yards until I felt I was far enough away too walk on the sidewalk.

Once my house was out of sight, I was walking on air and elated. I'd done it. I jogged the distance to Michelle's car and slid into the back seat, expecting an occupied front seat. To avoid further noise, I was careful when closing the door.

However, Michelle and I were alone.

"Where's Jake?" I asked as she pulled away from the corner.

"He and his friends went earlier for reconnaissance or something dumb. He's been live texting me since, like, eleven," she scoffed. As if on cue, her phone lit up where it sat in her cup holder. She ignored it. "Am I picking up Jess or is she gonna stay home?"

I crawled into the front seat, then buckled up. "Last I heard she was still coming."

"Text her and let her know we're on our way, then."

Nodding, I pulled my phone free from my coat pocket and relayed the message. It took a few moments for Jess to reply, but she was still on board.

"She says you can pull up right to her house. Her parents aren't home."

Michelle huffed. "Lucky. I had to pretend to go to bed super early and then wait for them to go. Still didn't take as long as yours did!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." I sighed. "I had to climb out a window."

"Your room?"

"No, the bathroom. On the second floor." I puffed out my chest and smirked.

Even in the dark I could tell she was rolling her eyes. When she spoke, though, she couldn't hide her awe—no matter how hard she tried to play it off. "Managed not to kill yourself at least."

"It was either that or risk Atlas waking up the whole house."

We pulled up in front of Jess' house and I texted to let her know. Michelle checked her own messages while we waited, and two minutes later Jess was sat in the back seat. We spent a moment greeting each other before Michelle drove us toward the park.

Curiosity—or concern—had been eating me the entire ride to her house. When I could contain it no longer, I turned to ask, "Why aren't your parents at home?"

"Dad left a note," she said, not taking her eyes from the window. "Didn't say much, though. Just that they'd be gone until real late. Or early, depending on how you look at it. They're usually out late but never at this time of the night."

"Are you worried?"

"Not really," she lied, unable to look me in the face. "They go to all the town meetings, so that's where they could be. Sometimes they run longer than normal. I don't think they have a reason to go to the park when they work at the stables."

"Oh, well that's a relief. My parents never go to those stupid things. Do they ever make you go with them?"

She shrugged but said nothing. I couldn't tell if it was because she was worried or didn't want to talk to me. I grimaced and settled back into my seat without saying more. I knew she didn't want to be on this trip, but I was making an effort to keep her spirits up. The least she could do was talk to me.

Or she could have just not come.

Halfway to our stop, Michelle was stricken with a bout of energy. She wiggled in her seat and squealed, "This is so exciting! I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"Me either," Jess muttered behind me. I wasn't sure if I was meant to hear, so I ignored it.

Michelle motioned to the case sitting on the seat next to Jess. "I brought my mom's camera so we can record video with _good_ quality and take so many pictures! We can put them up later on the internet and be _so famous_!"

Jess added, "If we don't get caught."

"Well," Michelle hummed, "We'll need a good attitude about it and we'll be fine. Don't bring us down with your negativity."

I shot her a look and scolded her with a sharp, "Be nice!"

She shook her head and said, "I am! I was just _teasing_, god."

Unconvinced, I turned in my seat to encourage Jess with a smile, but her attention was out the window. I sat back and glowered at the glove compartment. Fine, I'd change the subject, instead. "What has Jake been saying in his texts?"

"He told me where to ditch the car, but now he's telling me it doesn't matter?"

"What doesn't matter?"

Michelle stole a glance to the cup holder then picked up her phone. She turned on the screen and said, "Yeah, he says he hasn't seen anyone patrolling so far. No soldiers or anything."

"Really? Are you serious?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. I thought it was weird, too."

Jess spoke up then. "Just because he can't see them doesn't mean they're not there, though. It's dark and they have like. . .camouflage outfits."

"That's true."

After an annoyed huff Michelle said, "Well that's just what he said! I'm not there, I don't know what's going on."

Her phone clattered into the cup holder, punctuating the tension in the air. I sighed and wished they would get along with each other. "The guy mentioned they'd be setting up a perimeter or something, didn't they? He should have seen some unless they skirted around them too wide," I said.

"I still think they're hidden," Jess muttered.

"No," I mused. "Why would they hide? They'd put up cones and shit so people know where to avoid. I mean, unless they already finished their work and left."

"Left where? Someone would have seen them go and we would have called this off."

Jess nodded. "I'm with Michelle. They couldn't have left unnoticed."

"Yeah I guess so." It was the closest thing to behaving they had done all night. I would take what they would give me.

We came to the conclusion to play it safe, anyway. Michelle pulled off into an empty lot and parked the car in a dark corner. Her Neon wouldn't exactly blend in with its silver paint job, but it would work. "We'll hoof it from here and meet up with them in the woods."

All three of us climbed from the vehicle, unconcerned about being spotted—Estes Park was a day time destination. At night, especially in late fall and winter, it was too cold to do anything outside of town once the sun set, not to mention passed midnight—and scurried toward the tree line where we would be under cover.

"Do you know the way?" I asked Michelle.

She waved her hand and nodded. "Yeah, sure. He sent me step by step pictures and a walkthrough on how to walk into the park." Her sarcasm could cut if she tried hard enough, and I rolled my eyes at her.

"You sure we can just. . .walk in?" Jess whispered.

She checked her phone once more then nodded. "He's going to meet us a little ways ahead and lead us around a few patrolling cops. I guess Victor was almost caught."

"See? Oh my god, this is so stupid," Jess whimpered, clutching the hem of my jacket.

I let her cling and motioned toward Michelle. "You got your camera?"

"Yup, let's go." She didn't wait for any more complaints, and I proud of her for leaving Jess alone this time. We followed after her, jogging deep into the trees.

*:･ﾟ✧

During the day, the Rocky Mountain National Park was beautiful. This time of the year, when the leaves were changing color, it was at its best. Orange and yellow leaves against the white aspen trunks. . .it was a thing of art. Autumn was our busiest tourist season, bringing people from all over to see the leaves change.

At night, though, they were all the same color. A macabre filter of black against black.

Walking through the darkened trees was reaching uncanny proportions. Every rustle of the trees set my nerves on edge and lit the fuse to my fight or flight response.

It was terrifying. It was creepy.

It was _thrilling._

The closest I had ever gotten to thrills of this caliber was during Halloween. Even if I couldn't convince my friends to come with me, Mom and Kristie would accompany me to a haunted house. It was the same adrenaline spike that drew me to roller coasters.

Maybe the situation wasn't quite the same, but I had no other comparisons. There were real threats here; losing our way, officers or soldiers catching us, and maybe even danger. If I sat and thought about what we were doing, my logical side said it was a bad idea. The thrill-seeking side didn't care. The heightened senses and tingling in my body was too tempting.

The three of us waited behind an autumn-kissed bushed for Jake to meet us. The ticket booths were several yards, hidden in the thicket. I didn't know how long we'd been waiting, but it seemed like forever. We could see the flashing lights of patrol cars between the branches.

If we hadn't been looking for them, we never would have spotted them.

"This is a terrible idea, guys," Jess whispered in our ears. It was the third time in the span of three minutes. "We're gonna get caught."

"Not if you keep _quiet,_ dammit Jess just _shhhh_!" Michelle hissed.

I sighed and shook my head. Everyone was on edge and the two of them were fighting way more than often, leaving me to mend the rift. It was often that way, making me wonder why we were all friends still—was it old times' sake? We had been friends since elementary, after all.

High school was supposed to be when big changes happened. Maybe we were all holding on to our old memories in an attempt to keep the group together.

Or maybe I was reading too much into a stressful situation.

"Guys," I murmured, "Keep your voices low. Jake will be here soon."

Michelle nodded and shifted anxiously where she crouched. "Yes, okay, that's what I've been trying to say."

Another five minutes passed before we spotted Jake's familiar form. He doubled back, giving us a wide berth, then scuttled up behind us. He took Michelle's hand when she offered it and grinned at us. "Sup guys."

"Babe what took you? We've been waiting ages."

He dipped his head. "Sorry, we had to go way deep to keep off the radar. There are only a couple cops out there, but we wanted to make sure we were outside their patrol radius."

"Okay, so what's the plan?" I asked.

"Alright," Jake murmured, pulling Michelle back with him. Jess and I followed. "We'll fly dark for now, and we have to go real wide, okay? Follow me, though. It's just a bit of extra walking."

We agreed and Jake led us onward, avoiding any clearings and sticking to the shadows. The flashing sirens disappeared behind us, and there was a moment where I was certain the cops could hear my pulse.

None of us dared speak the entire time, the only sound the muffled crunch of leaves under our boots. The hike lasted fifteen agonizing moments until we crested the hill. Whispers echoed toward us and we approached with caution.

"Is that them?" I asked under my breath.

"Yeah," Jake responded. "Let's go."

He led us down the other side of the hill and pulled a flashlight. At our approach, several other lights flicked in our direction and the tension was palpable.

"Just us," Jake called. Everyone sighed a collective breath of relief.

"Scared us half to death, man," Tyler jittered, clapping Jake on the back. "Glad you finally made it, though. We were about to leave without you."

I looked around at the others and motioned toward them. "Who are all these people?"

Several other students were gathered around, shivering and talking. Half of them I didn't know, and the other half I recognized in face only. People from my classes, but not friends or acquaintances. I thought they were speaking a bit too loud, but maybe that just meant we were far enough away. Jake glanced back at the others and shrugged. "We ended up telling a few more friends what we were doing. They brought some of their own friends. Safety in numbers, right?"

"I don't think that applies when you're trying to be sneaky," Jess pointed out.

Michelle draped her arms around Jake and shrugged. "It'll be fine! We already dodged the cops and you guys haven't seen any soldiers, right?"

"Not hide nor hair," someone assured us.

A boy I recognized from my math class indicated toward the trees. I think he was the Victor Jess had mentioned earlier. "I think we should start that way. There was some police tape wrapped around the trees."

"It was torn though," Rick, from Jake's group, said.

"Torn?" I repeated.

Jake waved his flashlight and called to the others. "Alright, this should be everyone, right? Let's get going before people start realizing we're gone."

"Shouldn't someone stay behind if someone else shows up?"

"Yeah, okay," Jake said. "Who wants to volunteer to stay behind by themselves and wait for stragglers to show up?"

When no one spoke up, he chuckled. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

"You snooze you lose," Michelle agreed.

With that, we moved as one into the woods. Like Victor said, we walked past the police tape tied around a few tree trunks. Michelle snapped a picture of the dangling yellow strips as they twitched in the breeze. I stopped to pick up one of the ends, examining the tattered material.

"Don't fall behind!" Michelle hissed at me from ahead.

I dropped the tape and jogged to catch up. "Coming, sorry."

*:･ﾟ✧

"Anyone know where we're going?" I asked, my arms wrapped around myself. "How deep this thing is supposed to be?"

Jake answered first. "No one knows. Maybe we should spread out."

"Splitting up is a stupid idea. Haven't you seen _any_ horror movie?" his friend Tyler snorted.

"Not _split up_," Jake snapped. "_Spread out_. Like in a search party."

Michelle clung to Jake's arm and nodded. "Yeah! We'll cover more ground and still be within shouting distance of each other, right?"

"Um, probably _seeing_ distance," Jake amended. "Everyone got a light?"

Those who carried flashlights waved them around. Those without pulled out their phones and warmed up the flashlight feature.

"Is this good enough?" I asked, waving my phone.

"Yeah, sure."

Our band of teenagers expanded outward, forming smaller groups or single parties. Jess opted to remain at my side, and I was glad for the company. There wasn't much to talk about as we searched, and our crunching footsteps punctuated the silence. The light of my phone guided us through the night. Every few minutes, Michelle would take a picture of something inane.

"Can we take a break?" Jess panted. I wasn't sure how far we had walked, but it had been well past an hour since we'd begun the search.

"I'll ask." I turned from her and shouted to the others. "Hey guys, five minute break?"

The hike was nothing compared to conditioning practices, but we had a diverse group of people. Not everyone would be in the same shape I was. So, it wasn't a surprise when mutters and groans of agreement rippled through everyone. Soon enough we grouped up again.

"Anyone bring some water?" someone called.

A few people presented bottles of water to pass around and I grimaced at my own oversight. At least some people had been thinking. I chalked it up to poor planning and nerves on my part.

Michelle sat with Jake and his friends, so I sat with Jess. . .though everyone was within speaking distance of one another. Michelle shot to her feet as soon as she sat and arched her back with a squeal. All eyes turned toward her as she brushed something from her butt before performing the "ants in my pants" dance.

"Babe what's up?" Jake asked, gripping her arm.

"I sat in something wet and nasty!" she wailed.

I made my way to her, sweeping my light over the log she'd sat atop. "What could you have sat in? Melted ice or something?"

"I don't know!" she whined, brushing her pants off. "I sat on some—stupid slug or something? I don't know it's slimy and nasty! Ew, ew, get it off me!" She dropped to the floor and wiped her hands on a patch of green weeds.

Jake joined her to try and help, but I just giggled. "Ew don't sit on slugs, man. . . ."

Jess looked confused. "Are there even slugs out here? I mean. . .isn't it a bit cold?" she asked, kneeling by the log and beckoning to me.

"How would I know, Jess?" Marie snapped, rubbing her palms against the side of her pants.

We left the irritated Michelle to her whimpering and I crouched next to Jess. I wanted to see this mysterious slug myself, but all we found was a puddle of something opaque and viscous. I reached out to touch it and Jess shuddered next to me.

"The hell is this?" I whispered more to myself than to anyone.

It was slimy and felt disgusting. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that I wanted it _off_ so I shook my hand before wiping it off on my jacket. "Nasty ass. . .slime shit," I muttered.

"Why'd you touch it?" Jess snickered.

"I don't know, maybe because I'm actually two years old and learn by touching stuff," I berated myself, sighing.

She shook her head and took a bottle full of water, offered to her by one of the boys. We passed it on to the next person after Jess and I had our share. Then, we took a seat far away from the slime to enjoy the rest of our break. Our cold, cold break. I wanted to return to hiking so I could start warming up through exercise again.

"How much further do you think this thing is?" Jess asked over the sound of the others.

"Who knows, but it sure is getting colder. It might even snow if we're out here any longer," I surmised. I peered at the dark through the tree tops, and saw nothing but inky black.

She rubbed at her sore legs and chewed on her lip. "Will we be able to find our way back?"

Shrugging, I said, "I'm sure we will. Someone here has to have a working GPS. Even if we do get lost someone will be able to lead us back to town." A shadow flit across the corner of my eye and I snapped my head that way to look, but there was nothing.

"Alright let's get back at it! We've got more ground to cover," one of the guys shouted as he stretched to his feet. In the darkness it was hard to make out faces.

"How far do we need to go?"

"Shouldn't we give up and go back?"

"No way! Let's go!"

It was Michelle who spoke up next, clinging to Jake's arm. Most everyone was shivering. "I mean we're not keeping anyone here, if you want to go back go ahead and go back!"

Though some did consider it, no one was keen on leaving the pack. We spread out into the search line again and began the hike. Some conversations whispered on the wind, but Jess and I remained quiet. She was holding on to my jacket, as if afraid to lose me, and I didn't mind. This way, I didn't lose her, either.

"What are we even looking for?" One of the other girls shouted after a few minutes.

No one had an answer until ten minutes later. Victor waved his flashlight in an erratic spotlight and shouted to us. "Over here! I found a fence!"

Our group came together and gathered around the wire fence. We couldn't tell what it was for until I turned my phone's light onto the trees. They were limp and hanging, leaves littering the ground in varying shades. Smaller trees had toppled to rest against the forest floor, roots upturned. Some trunks had snapped clean in half. The destruction only seemed to worsen further into the woods.

"There are some tire tracks over here, leading into. . .that," one of the other girls said, crouching on the ground.

"What do you think caused it?" Tyler asked.

"Whatever crashed here, obviously," Michelle scoffed. Her camera flash blinded us all for a second or two. "Let's follow it."

"You think the wires are electric?" Victor asked.

"Touch it and find out."

"I'm not touching it, you touch it."

The boys argued for a while about who was going to touch the fence. I stood back and examined the tree line some more: whatever crashed there had to have been big. A chill chased tremors down my spine and something dark flit past the edges of my light. My heart skipped a beat.

Jess seemed to have noticed it as well: she pressed against my back and stared into the woods.

All at once the hair on the back of my neck to stood on end. I whipped my light around to illuminate the woods; nothing there was nothing but trees and bushes. Jess clutched at my jacket and I didn't pull away.

"Nichole, what was that?" she whispered.

"I don't know, maybe a deer or something." I didn't know who I was trying to convince more. Someone was watching us, that was certain. We weren't the only ones feeling the heebie jeebies. Those not caught up in the argument were looking around the woods.

We didn't have time to be arguing.

"Alright _I'll _do it!" I growled, marching up to the fence and grabbing the wire.

"Nichole!" Jess whined, running to my side.

Nothing happened, though. There was no spark, no course of electricity through my body. I released the wire and turned to the group, arms up. "See? Let's go."

Jake grinned and nudged my shoulder with his fist. "When'd you grow a pair?"

My cheeks flushed and I hoped it was hidden by the cold. "Shut the hell up, man."

He snickered and attached himself to Michelle before leading the pack again. I fell into step next to Jess and rubbed my arm. Despite the bravado, my hands were trembling. I didn't want to think about what would have happened if. . . .

The unsettling feeling weighed on top of the entire group. No one spoke once we were in that broken trail of trees. We weren't sure how far the crash site stretched, but there was no end in sight. This time we didn't bother spreading out, instead keeping to a tight ball. Every whistle of wind through the leaves made us jump, ever snap of a twig pushed my senses into overdrive.

Michelle, however, was making good use of her camera.

I kept seeing shadows move, but when I shined my light, there was never anything there.

"Shhh, guys. . .up ahead. Get down," Jake's harsh voice whispered. He was already crouched, so like a single entity, the rest of us ducked down and shut off our lights.

We shuffled forward together until we were practically on our bellies, crawling. There was a slight incline, and at the top was the dark shape of a vehicle. Jake motioned for us to stay put, pried his arm from Michelle's grip, then army-crawled through the broken twigs. At the top of the hill, he crouched behind the car and disappeared around it.

No one dared move. We waited what seemed like ages until he returned, his flashlight on. "There's no one here," he called, his voice shaking.

Sharing glances, we stood and joined Jake on top of the hill, flashlights coming to life. I didn't bother with mine. The hill sloped downward, and all the trucks from earlier that morning were there.

Everything was quiet. There was no wind, no sounds of wildlife. No soldiers. I swallowed the dry lump in my throat and held tight to Jess, who was trembling alongside me. Most of us stayed by the first car, but others wandered down. Though Jake left to explore, Michelle remained and lit the hillside with her camera.

I pulled away from Jess and put my hands on her shoulders. "Stay here, I want to look, too."

She nodded in jerky succession and I left her side to scale the incline. I kicked something after a few steps and leaned down to see what it was. My fingers brushed against the hard plastic of a rifle. I followed its contours until slime met met skin. I recoiled and jumped to my feet, skittering away from the gun until I tripped over a flashlight.

It, too, was covered in sludge.

"Um, guys," a boy I didn't recognize called, "there's blood over here."

Before I could come to investigate, someone started yelling from atop the hill. "Lin! Lin this isn't funny! Lin!"

Everyone turned to the voice in the back. Kylee, also from my math class, had her hands to her mouth and was turning this way and that. She turned toward our questioning gazes, eyes wide. "I don't know where Lin went! She was _right here_ a second ago! She—she said she was going to look at something over there and—Lin! Lin where are you!" She was close to tears and gasping.

Muttering and concerned voices wound through the air. Michelle and I ran to her side to comfort her and Jess trailed after us, hovering a foot away. It wasn't long before she had her fingers in my jacket again. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Kylee sniffed and gestured behind us. "Yes! She was right there. I turned away to look inside this truck, and—for like _two minutes_. Where did she go? Where did she go?"

Several other people joined in shouting for Lin, meandering about the abandoned caravan. Every nerve in my body was on a hair trigger, the slightest sensation turning my skin to gooseflesh. We called for a minute or two, but I couldn't concentrate.

Victor had seen _blood._

After a couple minutes, something answered.

The first time I thought it was an echo, so I ignored the awful feeling of dread it elicited. The second time, though, was louder. Closer. The sound was not an echo and a human's voice. It was a wail, dangerous and malicious. We all came to a halt and stared into the woods.

"Please tell me you all heard that," Michelle said.

Agreement worked its way across us.

"What was it?"

"It didn't sound like a bear or an elk."

"Maybe it was a coyote," Jess suggested, worrying her hands. She and I were arm in arm. "They make really weird noises."

Once more the sound trilled through the leaves and several of us jumped. Without a word we started moving again, giving up the search for Lin. Kylee was in tears, sniffling and whimpering. All us girls huddled together, the boys around us. Next to me, Kylee muttered nonsense.

"A coyote ate her. I didn't hear her scream. I shouldn't have let her. Can't believe it."

I tugged on her jacket sleeve. "It's okay. She didn't get eaten. We'll find her. Did you try calling her cell phone?"

She hiccupped and shook her head before pulling her phone from her pocket. We continued walking as she dialed the number, then put her phone to her ear. "It's ringing. I don't have very good signal out here so the call might drop—but it's ringing."

We waited, but it wasn't long before she groaned and put the phone away. "She won't answer."

Palpable tension permeated the air. Fear wafted sticky and hot from us. Every now and again someone would call for Lin, but she didn't answer. The screeches had stopped, as well, and we were almost ready to relax. Tyler wandered a few feet away to peer into the trees for Lin.

The tree above him ruffled and he turned his light toward it. "Lin?" he wondered.

His body jerked with a wet sound as a long, bladed _thing_ pierced his shoulder. He had enough time to croak in pain before he was heaved into the tree like a paper doll. The branches creaked as something moved, leaping to the next tree, before all was still again.

Shocked silence blanketed the immediate area.

Something hissed next to us, shattering the moment. One of the boys called out a command, quashed by the screams and shouts that exploded from our group. As one, we turned tail and fled back down the mountain.


	4. See the Dogs

**Hello, readers!**

**This is the last chapter for this group of updates. Please let me know what you think, even if you have to PM me! This was so much hard work lmao. I have a small group of chapters already rewritten, I just need to go through and give them a final round of edits and final touches before I can post them. Look forward to it, and remember to ask if you want me to let you know when they're up!**

**This chapter is updated as of 11/13/2015**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Three

See the Dogs

"Keep _up_!"

"I'm trying!"

I lost track of everyone but Jess, my hand super-glued to hers. She was slower and less athletic than me, but I spurred her on at my pace anyway. It was cruel, maybe, but I was going to keep her alive this way.

"Michelle?" I shouted into the darkness, casting fleeting glances around. We had all sprinted in the same direction—away—but at varying intervals and distances.

Her response was an unintelligible squawk from ahead, but at least she answered.

Unearthly screeches followed behind us. Whatever was out there, it was the only noise they made. There was no pounding footsteps as they chased, no scrape of claws on bark as they climbed. They blended with the shadows as created from them.

The world dimmed, narrowing until all I saw was the path ahead of me. All I heard was the beat of my pulse in my ears. Jess' hand was warm in mine; my speed suffered from her lag and she huffed and puffed behind me, breaths ragged. I hoped against all odds she would be able to keep up with the help of adrenaline.

_Let go,_ a voice needled from the back of my mind.

_No. No_. She would never make it. We were falling behind, but there were others still at our backs. If I held on, we could both make it. I was at point, I could drag her with me. . . .

A scream stabbed through the air behind us, then silenced with an abrupt end. Jess and I shrieked, so I urged her onward with encouraging shouts. Too close. We were too close to the end of the pack. If we didn't speed up, we would be in a position for them to pick us off.

_Let go._

"What are they?"

"Just run!"

"Faster!"

Another scream from one of my friends, so close it made my ears ring. However, this one wasn't cut off like the last. It continued well into the woods; it ricocheted in my skull.

"James!"

"Don't look back!"

_Let go_.

My grip slackened by a margin when the voice gained strength. Jess' fingers tightened in reflex and I redoubled my efforts to keep us ahead. I didn't have to let go, there was still a chance. I could do this, I _had_ to do this. I could save us both.

The path ahead was littered with fallen trees from the crash, making running perilous. Navigating through the trunks and over fallen branches was difficult while towing Jess.

But I had to.

We would _both_ live.

Michelle was with Jake—I knew he'd keep her safe. Everyone else was on their own, but I could take care of Jess.

I chanced a glance behind me. Jess' eyes were wide, her face flushed.

My gaze flickered from the path ahead to the forest around me. My situational awareness would see me through the obstacles, I was sure. Years of sports and video games would guide my path through the woods and see me to the end. I saw trees in my peripheral, rocks laid out in my path. Like enemy players or cones during practice. It was child's play, and it would lead me to the goal.

To safety.

Around us the shadows moved and writhed. They hissed and pounced on those unfortunate enough to stray from the herd or fall behind. Faster. We had to move faster and catch up with our friends—they were ahead of us.

We were the last.

_Let go._

Somehow we cleared the crash zone, skirted the fence, and moved into untouched forest. Our speed picked up as the ground beneath us sloped further downward. My footing was less sure, but I kept my balance and prayed that Jess would be able to keep hers. If she couldn't, it would mean both of our lives. . . .

It wasn't long before someone else tripped and tumbled down the hill. My muscles tensed for a fraction of a second as my body warred with my brain.

_Help. Run. Help. Run. Help._

_ Run._

I skirted our fallen friend, their identity not registering in my mind. It would be better if I didn't know who I was leaving behind. Who's life I was valuing as less than mine.

Jess became dead weight against my pulling. I jerked to a stop and found her trying to double back to help the person to their feet—_Michelle_. She had been the one to lose her footing. She was the one I had been willing to leave behind.

The screeches were once more upon us. The wraiths were in the trees, crawling shadows with glinting, chrome fangs.

"Michelle!" Jake shouldered past me.

_Let go. Run. Don't stop._

"I cracked my knee on something—"

"Can you walk? We _have_ to _run_," Jess whined, pulling me toward Michelle. Toward danger.

"Babe get up! Come _on_!"

"Nichole, help!"

_Let go_.

Black death descended from the trees.

Time slowed to a crawl. My vision tunneled and my breathing echoed in my ears. I tore my gaze from approaching doom and focused on Jess' pleading look, then to Jake picking up Michelle. Teeth and claws threatened to rend and flay.

A nails-on-chalkboard squeal.

_Run_.

Heat pulsed behind my eyes and my breath hitched. I ripped my hand free of Jess' and fled down the hill to catch up with the rest. I had lost so much ground.

"Nichole!"

"Nichole wait!"

Their appeals morphed into screams that curdled my blood and tore out my still-beating heart. Soon they melted with the cries of the monsters. I wiped tears from my eyes before they could compromise my vision. Guilt twisted a knife in my gut and almost brought me to my knees, but adrenaline pushed me forward.

It crooned pretty words—that I had done well. That this was right.

That I had only one directive.

_Survive._

*:･ﾟ✧

After what seemed like hundreds of miles of sprinting, we saw the lights. Flashes of blue and red against the jet-black sky, the blotchy treeline silhouetted. The police were still so far away, so many more miles of running. . . .

We would never make it.

The beasts had stopped their raucous screeching. Part of me knew it was because they were busy feasting on my friends. I could see them in my head, torn apart by the things and gutted like fish with talons so sharp and teeth too pointed.

_My fault._

"Is that the police?"

"Thank god!"

I settled into the center of the remaining group, keeping pace without overtaking. If I was nestled in the center of the group, I'd be fine. The police were a tempting hope to cling to-any punishment they gave us would be pittance compared to dying by demons.

Monsters? Aliens? They had to be aliens. I had never seen anything like them.

A spaceship had crashed. I had no doubts about it anymore.

We sprinted toward the lights, using them as beacons to sanctuary. That is, until they disappeared behind the crest of another hill. I was gasping for breath, legs like jello, and I knew I wouldn't be able to go on much longer. Others in the group had all started screaming, hoping the cops would hear.

Hoping they'd come and save us.

No matter how tired we were, though, we didn't dare stop. Not when the creatures could be right behind us. There weren't many of us left: four if I looked hard enough to count.

I'd lost them. I'd lost Jess.

_My fault. _

Five minutes after we lost sight of the police car's sirens, we saw pinpricks of lights in the trees. They flickered in and out of view, heading west to our south. Our screams intensified and the lights swung in our direction.

At last.

"Hey! You kids can't be here!" one of the officers yelled. I lifted my hand against the glare, but he swept the light over the others.

"Help! You have to help us!"

As soon as we were close, we flung ourselves at the two officers. One held me by the bicep while I shuddered and sucked in air, another one of my classmates held in his other hand. Each breath I took drove icy needles into my over-taxed lungs. My muscles burned as if filled with napalm. I wanted nothing more than to collapse and make the officer hold me, but adrenaline wouldn't let me relax.

_They're gone._

_ Monsters are coming._

"Calm down, children! What happened? We thought we heard screaming."

The strength seeped from my veins and a frantic sob slipped past my defenses. I choked and spluttered on half-formed words, everyone trying to explain at once.

"They took them—"

"They're dead! They're all dead—"

"There were these _things_—"

"Calm down! One at a time!"

A single noise saturated the cold and silenced us all. It wafted over on the breeze and promised a painful death.

The officer released me and my classmate, then pulled his gun from its holster. He motioned for us to move back where his partner corralled us behind him, his own weapon drawn. My trembling body itched to move, to run _away_.

But I was safe with the police. I had to be. I'd come too far not to be.

_They're gone._

_ My fault._

Alone, the officer inched forward, sweeping his light through the brush. The beasts made no more sounds, but the hairs on the back of my neck was on edge. They were out there in the darkness, lurking and waiting.

"Where is the National Guard?" he called over his shoulder in a hushed voice.

"They weren't here when we came in," the boy next to me offered.

Another added, "We found their base. They were all missing and there was _blood_."

He stalked forward step after step. None of us made any effort to follow him. I took careful steps backwards, every muscle tense and ready to spring.

"What was it you guys said you saw out here?"

As if in answer, something disturbed the branches of a nearby pine tree. The four of us cried out an anguished warning as he approached the tree, but were too late. A spine-covered tail struck from above, penetrating the officer's chest. He sputtered and gagged, body stiff.

His partner opened fire into the tree, and we remained frozen in place behind him.

He would protect us. He had to protect us.

"Kids, get out of here!" he commanded, pushing us back. "Hurry! Don't look back and don't stop, no matter what!"

_No._ We were supposed to be _safe_ with him.

At his behest, we turned tail and fled back into the woods. How far could we go? Their cruisers were a couple miles away, still. Gunshots popped behind us, punctuated by screeches. We had to try.

_Why?_ I thought as I struggled to keep up the race. _Why did we think this was a good idea?_

My friends were all gone, and we were running from an unidentified species. We would all die out here, tired and scared and ripped to pieces.

We should have turned back hours ago.

Ear-splitting screeches from all directions scattered my group. The creatures split us up, and I found myself alone in the dark. When I tried to spot someone, all I saw was a nightmare black creature running parallel to me. I choked back a sob: quadrupeds. I couldn't hope to out-run something that was on all fours.

I had to try. _I had to try_.

The creature sounded off at my left and my head jerked in that direction. It was for a mere heartbeat, but it was long enough. My muscles were hot rubber, lungs shriveled. I lost my footing on the slope and lurched forward with an undignified wail. The ground reached drove what precious air I had from my lungs, leaving me a coughing and wheezing mess.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. How many times had I chastised the bimbos in horror movies for doing the exact same thing?

A victory screech rattled my bones and I struggled to stand. I only managed to rise in a half-crouch before something heavy landed not far behind me and I twisted around. There were no more scream, no more gunfire.

It was me and the demon, alone.

Glistening fangs and a sleek black hide rose to fill my vision. The thing was the size of a small bear, emaciated form made of a bio-mechanical exoskeleton. Elongated claws scored divots into the dirt, its back legs exaggerated digitigrade stilts. A long, segmented tail stretched several feet behind it, tipped with a sharp blade.

And those _teeth_.

They were at the forefront of my mind; silver, glistening, _deadly_. It was an unholy spawn of serpent and insect, demon and shadows.

Not anything like the aliens from movies. It wasn't a small gray man with big eyes. It wasn't a green man with big, pulsating brains. I wasn't even sure if I believed that these aliens could fly a ship. They were too bestial, too feral; there was no way it was smart or dexterous enough to pilot anything.

Attack dogs, maybe?

It's oblong head stretched back between protrusions from its spine, swaying as it regarded me. I didn't see any eyes, only a smooth carapace. Lips drew back over those fangs, twitching and slavering with viscous saliva. Behind it, its skeletal tail lashed like an angry cat.

Then, with a high-pitched whine, it lunged.

There was no air left in my lungs for me to scream. It landed atop me and I wheezed once, then tried to curl inward to protect my core. Stars danced across my vision and I rasped out a pitiful croak of pain. Its claws dug into my body, and then it yanked me away.

Sticks and stones snagged at my clothes and scratched my face. My green coat tore open in several places, caught up on any manner of forest litter. All the while I grabbed at whatever I could, trying to hold onto anything and keep it from dragging me. A sob tore free of my sandpaper throat and tears squeezed from my eyes.

Somehow I found my stolen breath and screamed at the top of my lungs. I shouted and wailed for someone to please _help_.

My face stung from its cuts, my fingers ached and bled from attempting to dig into the ground. But I didn't want to give up. I couldn't give up. I didn't know what this hellish thing had in store for me but I didn't want to find out.

I just wanted to go back _home_.

Crawl under my bed, hope this was a dream—

—_Wake up. Wake up wake up _wake up.

This was my penance, I realized, for leaving my friends. For running when I should have helped, for trying to save myself instead of them.

The thing was stronger than I ever would have given it credit for. Even when I managed to get my hands on a root and stall my kidnapping, it wrenched me free. It dragged me along behind it, squealing and hissing. Its tail swished overhead and I watched it, afraid it might spear me at any moment.

Something struck me in the side of my head. White-hot pain flashed through my nerves, and then I knew nothing.

*:･ﾟ✧

An acrid stench roused me from my stupor. Moldy mildew and hot, wet air. Soon after, muffled sounds reached my ears; a steady drip, rustling, and ambient static. My head throbbed with a dull pain behind my eyes. I couldn't remember why—had I overslept?

For a blissful moment I thought everything had been a horrendous dream. I thought maybe I was at home. And my pillow case needed a desperate cleaning.

I was warm enough. But I was also _upright_ instead of horizontal on my bed.

After some attempts, I peeled open swollen eyes and peered into the darkness. Someone was moaning next to me and I was damp.

Not a dream.

That was just the maybe-concussion talking.

My sight faded in and out and when I tried to move, tried to lift my arms and rub my head, I could not. My damp hair clung to my face, and for one terrifying minute I thought it was my own blood covering me. Every part of me felt sticky.

Nothing else hurt, though. My body was sore, yes, but that wasn't the same as an injury. Not like my throbbing head or stinging cuts. If it was blood, it would be a lot of blood. Too much blood, and I wouldn't be awake, let alone alive. It felt instead like the slime from the log and the convoy.

After wiggling around and taking in what surroundings I could see, I came to a conclusion. I was encased in some sort of cocoon.

Whatever had me pinned to the wall held fast no matter how I struggled. I gave up soon after my first attempt, accepting that I was still weak and tired from running. When my eyes had adjusted to the dim red light of the room, I spotted two other people next to me. They were plastered to the wall in similar manners. Across from me there were even more.

None of them were moving. I couldn't see them well enough to recognize them. My mind cleared little by little and my vision focused enough to pick out details. One at my right was wearing military fatigues, and I assumed he was with the squad that disappeared.

It was the same with the man on my left. I thought perhaps the rest of those present were part of the Guard, but I had to squint and strain to see across from me.

One was missing his entire chest cavity.

I sucked in deep, noisy breaths and fought to keep calm. The sight of his blood and the entrails dangling from the gaping hole had me dry heaving. Tears poured down my cheeks and I looked around for something, anything, that would help me.

There was nothing.

Absolutely fucking nothing.

Instead, I started screaming for help. The man next to me stirred at the noise and I halted to look at him with wide eyes. Relief manifested in a hysterical laugh. There was one person who was _alive._

"Hey! Hey you're alive! Hey!" I called to him in desperation, leaning as far as I could toward him. I shook my damp hair out of my eyes, it only slapped against my cheek. Without hands, I couldn't move the strands far.

He inhaled a deep breath and lifted his heavy head. It took him a second, but at last his eyes fell on me. For a moment I thought that maybe he couldn't see me in the dark, but his eyes focused after a second. He stared at me for the longest time, as if unable to comprehend what he was seeing. After some time, his face contorted in dismay.

"Hey!" I whispered at him again, eyes wide with hope. "You okay?"

"No—no you weren't supposed to come. I told you to stay out of the woods! Who—who else?" he demanded. He sounded as if his throat was made of sandpaper.

It was then I realized that this was the same man from the school assembly. I couldn't recall his name; it stuck at the tip of my tongue. For a second I hesitated, terrified of a lecture, but I brushed the though aside.

This was so much bigger than a lecture.

"All my friends, and their friends. I don't know—there was a dozen or more of us," I finally admitted. "It wasn't supposed to be, it was just supposed to be a small group, but. . .but everyone kept inviting more people. . .and then we were attacked! It wasn't supposed to—what do we do? What do we do!" My voice cracked into a shrill wail and I fought against my restraints again. It was a thick, solid layer of resin that kept me glued to the wall.

"Calm down," he urged, head bobbing with the effort. He heaved a cough.

I took in a few more breaths and swallowed my tears. It lasted another few precious moments before I managed to calm down, but then I nodded and kept my eyes on him. "Okay. Okay."

"You just have to be calm and you can get out. What's your name?" he asked. His voice was subdued and he kept grunting and bending in at the waist as much as he could, as if he had a bad stomach ache. Concern knit my brow together.

"Nichole," I replied, voice wavering. I eyed him and tried to figure out what was wrong.

"Alright Nichole. I'm Lieutenant Anderson. Do you remember me from your high school?"

That's right: Anderson. I did remember, and I let him know with a few jerky nods.

He grimaced and wheezed. "I don't—I don't have much time. But you have to get out quick, okay?" He scrunched up his face in pain and grit his teeth.

"What do you mean?" I whimpered. Was it his stomach pains? "Are you okay?"

Anderson inclined his head toward the ground and I followed his gaze. Right in front of him was something like a dead spider the size of my chest. It had a long tail coiled around it and was belly-up, many-jointed legs curled in on itself. My eyes wandered north and widened at what I saw.

Eggs. Dozens and dozens of eggs. They were all clustered in the center of the room, swaddled in a lazy mist drifting along the ground.

"That thing—it. . .it stuck something inside me. I can feel it—trying to get out."

The hyperventilating started again and I looked around the room. Now the darkness had revealed so many more people, all stuck to the wall. Most of them seemed to be National Guard, but I recognized one of the cops from the hill. Only a few had holes in them, others just seemed unconscious.

Some had a spider-thing stuck to their face. They had tails wrapped around their throats and finger-like legs embracing their heads.

_Hugging_ their _faces_.

Then his words sank in and I turned my head toward him molasses-slow. Tears left dirty streaks on my cheeks.

"_It stuck something inside me_."

The gaping holes in those people's chests—that was what it was? The spiders—they put something _inside_ them? And then they—oh no. Oh god.

_Me_. I was. . . _next_.

"Nichole you have to stay with me," Anderson demanded when I started to whimper and sob. His breathing was more labored and his coughing fits more frequent.

I nodded and forced myself to calm down, but it was a losing battle. The tears trailed down my face uninhibited, and I ground my teeth together. Sobs formed hot rocks in my stomach. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pursed my lips, breathing in and out through my nose instead. I shook my head and tried to clear the tears from my eyes so I could see.

"More will come out of those eggs and when they do, you _cannot_ be here. Do you understand?" Anderson was trying his best to enunciate through grunts of pain.

There wasn't much room for interpretation. I had no choice _but_ to understand.

"Just thrashing around isn't going to get you out of this stuff, okay?" I didn't even mind that he was speaking to me like I was five. Somehow it was soothing.

"I know, I know, okay. I can do it." Can't panic. Can't lose control. Can't give in to despair.

His head bobbed and he took in a deep, pained breath. "You gotta do it smart. Take deep breaths, lean against it. The only way you'll get out is if you work at the same spot and wear it down." He managed a small smile and demonstrated for me on a section he'd been working at before. . . .

_Before he was face-hugged_ _by the parasite._

I thought for a moment, then picked a spot on my right. I pushed against it over and over, leaning and bumping into it as hard as I could.

When it started to create some slack, I choked back a laugh. "It's working!"

"Good—just keep doing that. When it's loose enough to get your arm free, you'll be able to pull or push the stuff away and have more freedom. You have to work fast, but do not panic, okay?" he advised. His voice was heavy and his body bucked.

"Okay, okay. I think I can do it. I'll do it," I amended, shoving against the spot I'd picked with more vigor. It slackened further and I could almost feel fresh air on my hand. "What about you?"

"Forget about me. Forget about them all unless you can without a doubt save them, okay?"

"What?" I stared at him in horror. Was he asking me to leave my friends again? I had done that once already and it had landed me in the spot I was in. Sure, he didn't know what I'd done, that the guilt still wheedled at my insides, but he couldn't ask me to ditch them.

Not again.

But he was. He was sitting there, telling me to leave them.

First the voice inside my head, and now this guy.

"_Do _not _stop for anyone_. Their best bet at survival is _you_ getting out and finding someone to come help." Anderson's body heaved and he choked on air.

"Lieutenant?" I whimpered in a small voice, stopping my movements.

He said nothing, and his body began to convulse. My eyes widened and a fresh batch of tears spilled past my eyelids. I was unable to look away as the area around his chest bulged. His bones cracked and splintered like ice, his flesh tore like fabric, and then he let out a haunting scream.

With one final, sickening snap, the cocoon burst and his blood misted the air. I watched on, horrified, as a slick head slipped out from the hole. It hissed and peered around with a sightless, gray head. I gawked as the little baby alien thing squeaked and climbed out of Anderson' chest cavity. It tumbled to the floor, peered around again, and slithered off.

I made no sound for a few seconds, sitting in abject terror. My chest heaved with mounting intensity until I was wheezing in fits.

Though I gulped air, my lungs refused to absorb it. All sounds warped and my vision blurred as if I'd was in a vat of water. Nausea turned my stomach and I retched, losing the dinner I'd eaten hours ago. No part of my brain could process, wanted to process, the scene I had witnessed.

My mind threatened to pull me back into the darkness. It didn't want to deal with what it was seeing. But I knew that would mean death. Even though my heart was about to beat itself out of my chest, I couldn't go under. I closed my eyes tight and fought to control my breathing. I struggled to dispel the dizziness and nausea.

It took several minutes of crying and groaning through clenched teeth, but I did it. My hearing returned and my eyes focused. The fuzzy feeling went away, and the heat behind my eyes cooled.

I had to stay conscious. I had to stay lucid.

_Have to get out._


	5. Wicked Design

**Hello, readers!**

**It took me a while, but here's chapter four. I would have waited to post it with more chapters, but I realized that there's a chunk of the story missing without this chapter so. :'D I would have had it done sooner, but my weekend was busy and I couldn't get to it. I cut out a lot of clutter and filler I'd used previously, so hopefully it flows better.**

**Hopefully I'll get the next set of chapters up soon. :'D **

**This chapter is updated as of 11/17/2015**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Four

Wicked Design

Through the panic, I remembered Anderson's advice. Through the cotton filling my skull, I remembered what to do. I continued my work with vigor, loosening the crust around my right arm. The entire time I repeated a quiet, desperate mantra in my head.

_Must not lose hope. Must not panic._

_ Have to get out._

My hand wriggled free, then my forearm, then the rest. I flexed my fingers and bent my elbow to make it sure worked, then starting prying. The resin cut into my palm, but didn't break the skin. It took all the strength I could muster, but I was able to tease chunks from the cocoon and free my shoulder. My chest soon followed.

Feet in front of me, an egg squelched and hissed. I ignored it in favor of leaning my weight forward, straining against what remained of my prison. Teeth gnashing and muscles shaking, I broke free and tumbled to the ground. Its embrace was hard, but the pain was negligible.

I was free.

Breaths heaved from my chest in loud whimpers. Ashen legs mounted atop the hatching egg and tiny mewls heralded the arrival of the parasite. I whirled around to face the wall again, sending pieces of crust scattering into the mist at my feet. It swirled as if alive.

Anderson was there, head cocked at an unnatural angle and jaw slack. Blood and pieces of viscera tracked red down his cocoon. My shoulders quaked, but I lunged for the plastic at his hip.

Gravity shifted his body and a globule of lung matter dropped to the ground. I squeaked and recoiled from his body. My stomach churned and I almost retched again, but I swallowed the bile that rose. His gun was right there, tucked at his hip.

_Have to get out._

This time, when the creature wailed, it drew my attention. I whirled around in time to see it soaring toward me, legs splayed out and tail behind it like a ribbon. Years of honed goal keeper reflexes brought my hands up in time to protect my face. The parasite hit my arms and its long tail wrapped around my bicep—it had aimed at my throat.

Despite its demure and emaciated figure (though it _was_ bigger than my face), it was strong. Its tail tensed and flexed around my arm, pushing against me and trying to pull itself closer to my face.

I struggled against it and stumbled backwards until I hit the wall. As it thrashed, the clawed tips of its digits tore shreds from my coat's sleeves. The bottom of it was a fleshy and inflamed, puckered like something from a hentai. After another bout of struggling, the center shifted to reveal a grotesque and phallic appendage.

Disgust set my teeth on edge and brought an uncomfortable heat to my core. I slid down the wall until I was on my ass, head turned away. With it pressed against my forearms, I couldn't keep the _alien mouth-cock _far enough away.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins like hot molasses. Eyes wide as saucers, I flipped over and shifted so I could wedge the thing against the ground. When my hand pressed into the disgusting squishy core, my teeth gnashed. The thing bucked and almost freed itself from underneath me, but I slammed my knee into it to keep it down.

A tremor of disgust wriggled down my spine at the sickening squashing sound. It writhed and squealed, its legs lashing, but I had it pinned against the ground with my weight.

It let loose a single squeak when I pushed harder, and its grip loosened. Before it could recover, I pried its tail free of my arm and swung my arm with all the force I could muster. An angry scream ripped from my throat as I bashed the parasite against the wall, splattering it like a bug. It took two tries for a lethal rupture of green-yellow blood, then I left it suctioned there.

I watched it to make sure it was dead, shoulders and chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. Broken, insides now outside, it slid down the wall with slow progress.

Otherwise, it made no sounds. It didn't move. I'd won.

The victory was short lived. Through the silence was the hiss of released air, the scuffle of skittering legs. I spun around, eyes flitting to and fro until they fell on the hatching egg.

Next to it, another unborn parasite was beginning to stir inside its womb.

There were more. So many more.

_Have to get out._

Fear wrapped its icy fingers around my chest. I turned to Anderson's body and did my best to censor his gaping ribcage from my mind. I zeroed in on his pistol instead and lunged. A section of his cocoon blocked it in no matter how hard I pulled or shook. Grunting, I tugged at the resin with one hand and tried to wiggle the gun free with the other.

Though it wasted precious seconds, I was able to pull out the firearm. The sudden lack of resistance had me reeling back, but I caught myself before I fell.

Thanks to the Colorado Youth Outdoors club, I knew the gist behind the weapon. My mom and I were two-year members, but all they'd taught me was gun safety for hunting. The only gun I'd ever fired before was a rifle. At skeet. For one day.

But this was my only shot. I had to hope it wasn't empty.

The firearm was foreign in my trembling hands. I checked the safety and pulled back the slide like they did in the movies—and out popped a bullet. "God dammit," I choked out, leaping back in surprise. At least I knew the gun was loaded, now. I would have to make it work with one less shot.

Behind me, something squealed. The gun was up and sighted as I whirled to face it.

It was airborne already.

My breath hitched in my throat and I squeezed the trigger, firing two rounds. The recoil jerked my hands and the sound surprised me, causing the first shot to miss. Thankfully, the second shot hit home and the parasite lurched in the air, falling flat on its back. When it continued to thrash, I popped it one more time.

That did it. It fell still and its legs curled inward as the rattle of its last breath whispered.

I was still for several seconds, but I wasn't out of the fire yet. There were others rustling around, and another parasite had fixed itself atop its egg. Now I was accustomed to my firearm—sort of—and I targeted the next one.

_Click._

"_No_!" I bellowed, shaking the gun. I pulled back the slide and tried again.

_Click._

_ Click click click._

Three shots. One bullet ejected on accident.

Rage replaced the fear. Red tinted my vision and I let out a strangled battle cry before charging the parasite. It was still in that foggy state of post-birth and I was able to take it by surprise. I was screaming the entire time as I punted the gross creature across the room. It slapped against the ground and I was on top of it in an instant, beating it with the butt of the gun.

Soon it was an unrecognizable mess of grotesque limbs and crumpled flesh.

My hands and face stung, the gun's grip a melted mess of plastic. Shaking, I dropped the weapon and scrambled back. I rubbed my face on my jacket sleeves and my hands on my pants, relieving some of the stinging.

_Still more. More more more._

They were all going to hatch, one after the other.

Hot stones filled my torso. I ran to each egg and stopped the life from them until they turned into a heap of mush.

Though my shoes smoked, I kept at it.

Egg after egg crumpled under my boots until there were only a few left. A searing pain at the bottoms of my feet halted my progress. Gasping, I threw myself to my ass and pulled my boots off with trembling hands.

The soles had melted through to my socks. Holes littered my pant legs, but the long underwear beneath were untouched. I tossed the boots aside with confused revulsion, then peeled my tattered socks off. My feet were red and blistered, but otherwise okay.

I froze and listened.

What was left of the eggs were motionless and dormant. No sounds, just that incessant drip. I waited what seemed to be forever, sitting, but there was nothing.

For now.

All the thrashing and moving had dispelled the mist, but the muggy humidity remained. Avoiding the puddles of acid, I padded to the rest of the eggs. The floor beneath my feet was cool and soothing on the burns I'd sustained. I dropped to my knees by each egg and, in turn, pushed them over. My feet scrabbled against the hard floor, but I was able to shove the eggs until they were up against a wall.

From there, I heaved until they crumbled or burst.

Then I was up, searching the room for others. For signs of danger.

White noise. The occasional rustle of the unconscious people on the wall. No immediate danger. No more eggs.

Nothing.

Relief washed over me and I slumped to the floor. Panting, I lifted my hand to wipe slime from my face, stopping short to stare. Blood tinged my fingers with red and the trembling started anew.

Was it Anderson's?

Was it my own?

Something fumbled to the floor across the room and I shrieked before I could stop myself, hands over my head. A moment passed and I uncurled from my ball and limped around the edge of the room toward a staggering form. It was one of the face-hugging aliens, stumbling as if drunk.

My heart had yet to find rest. It continued to race, and I knew it was only a matter of time until it gave out completely.

I had nothing to kill it with. My feet were bare, so I didn't want to kick it, either. It soon flopped over and died, though, its legs curling in on its center. The person in front of me started coughing and I threw myself backwards again.

Whoever they were, they were unconscious, so I stood and nudged the dead parasite. The dead facehugger. It must have completed whatever it was doing and died.

Its only purpose was to. . ._impregnate_ a host.

Slime dripped down my forehead and I went to swipe it off. Again I saw the blood on my fingers, and my mind emptied. From the vacancy came Anderson's agonized scream, then the sound of his ribs splintering in half.

The squeal of the creature bursting from the cavity.

When I came back to myself, I was hiccuping and whimpering. Tears left dirty streaks down my face and I wrapped my arms around myself, as if to keep from falling apart. I spent the next several minutes doubled over, sniveling and moaning through gritted teeth.

_Have to get out._

I sucked in a breath and ceased my rocking. There were things I had to do, placed I need to be. A couple more hiccups racked me, and I wiped my face, slicking slime through my hair. From my pants' pocket I pulled a hair tie, then used it to pull the sticky locks off my neck into a ponytail.

My gaze never lingered in one place long. I searched for danger whenever I could, trying to ignore the dead bodies. The angle at which their heads hung, the glazed look in their eyes.

How all the color had had drained from their faces.

More sobs choked my throat. I pushed my hand against either side of my head. If I could squeeze the sights out of my mind, I could move on. I needed to leave, I couldn't be in the room anymore. I struggled to stand, the resin cool against my feet. It seemed every inch of the room was covered in the strange material.

Shoes. I needed shoes.

Having a task focused my mind. It allowed me to ignore everything that wasn't part of my mission: find shoes. I kept my eyes low and searched for a pair of feet that might be close to my size.

The dim light was enough for me to find my bearings, but not much else. I tip-toed around the edge of the room, testing my steps before committing. The last thing I wanted to do was step in more of that acid and melt my feet off.

Acid. For blood. What the fuck kind of creatures were these?

It took a few painstaking minutes of checking boots before I found a pair close enough to my size and slipped them on.

A little big, but they would do. I could even ignore how strange they felt without socks.

Next, I needed to find a way out of the room. There had to have been a door somewhere, but the walls melded together. The crusted gum fused shapes together and created an optical illusion. I paced the room with my hand against the wall, trying to find an opening.

Screeches in the distance paralyzed me.

Shit—the _gunshots_. My screaming and shouting. . . . The big ones were coming to investigate the noise. I cursed my lack of foresight and worked double time until I found an opening to a corridor, and I slipped out. The resin stopped at the room, as if unfinished, and I found a small cubby to wedge myself in. It seemed to be a sort of vent and hot steam poured from it.

But, I ignored the initial discomfort and shimmied in as far as I could, crouching low and curling into a ball. I hid my face in my knees, every muscle tense and quivering. Sweat beaded my forehead.

Hissing shadows shot past several heartbeats later. Though I twitched at their initial appearance, I held rigid as a statue and held my breath. Nothing was going to make me unravel from my ball; I couldn't mess this up, not after my victory.

They rummaged around the room, angry screeches battering my senses. I was certain that if they'd found me in that room with all the broken eggs and dead facehuggers, they would have killed me.

There wouldn't have been a third chance. Just death.

The creatures made an awful racket as they sprinted from the room in search for the murderer. For me. Their noises disappeared into the bowels of the ship and I waited.

And waited.

*:･ﾟ✧

It seemed like forever that I huddled in that vent, biding my time. My legs were starting to cramp and there was an incessant itch irritating my left shoulder blade.

But I didn't dare move.

At first I'd counted to ten, but chickened out. Then I'd counted to thirty and yet again couldn't bring myself to leave. Not a single thing had made a noise since the creatures passed, but I was afraid. They could come back any second, and if they caught me with my pants down. . . .

After five minutes of absolute silence, I finally crawled out from my hiding spot. I glanced about, making sure the coast was clear, then wiggled out and slowly stood.

Well, somehow I'd avoided dying, now I had to figure out how to escape the ship.

I picked a direction and headed down the hall way, only to find myself back in the room. It was empty, except for the bodies on the wall and the tattered eggs. I hadn't meant to, but now that I was there I figured I'd make the best of it. Moving slower than was necessary in favor of silence, I slipped into the chamber. There were plenty of military personnel, so maybe I could find a weapon.

More guns popped into my mind, but I brushed the thought aside: they'd almost caught me once. I didn't want to broadcast my location like that again. Nor did I want to deal with the utter despair I'd felt when the gun ran out of ammo.

Would a gun even work against the things? The little creatures, maybe, but the big bugs looks tough. Could a bullet puncture their chitin? I knew there had to be some sort of weapon that could do it, but maybe not a pistol. How would I know until I tried, though? It seemed like it would be a waste no matter how I tried to spin it, though.

If the guns works, great, but I didn't have the training to aim right. How many bullets would each gun have? Not enough to kill all the monsters, of that I was sure. Then I'd be right back at square one. Or dead, more like it.

Something else, then. But what?

When faced with the task of looting corpses, though, I faltered. The cocoons covered most of their bodies, and what it didn't hide was a gaping, bloody mess. Every cell, every nerve ending, every fiber of my existence told me not touch anything. To turn and flee.

And so I stood there, rubbing my hands against my jeans and fidgeting.

That was when I felt it: a lump in my back pocket. I patted the spot once more, then pulled my phone free, hope swelling my chest. There was large fissure that cobwebbed across the top corner, but that was the extent of the damage.

"Everything's coming up Milhouse," I muttered, ticking my head to the side. A seed of hope planted itself inside me and I fumbled to wake up the phone. I was all too eager to forget the bodies.

"Come on, come on," I muttered, waiting for the black screen to come to life. It brightened after a slight delay. Excitement hindered my movement, but I was able to unlock the phone after the second try. I tapped on the phone app and brought up the keypad to type in 9-1-1. I didn't know what I was going to tell them, but I'd come up with something. All I had to do was tell them to call someone.

Then they could send help. A search party, anything.

But when I dialed and put the phone to my ear, I heard nothing. No ring, no voice asking me what my emergency was.

A big fat nothing.

"No, no," I muttered, staring at the phone. "Come on, just let me get through, just once. Just for a few seconds—I just need a few seconds!"

The second, third, and fourth tries bore similar results. I raised my hand as if to chuck my phone across the room, but thought better of it. Groaning, I crouched down and perched on the balls of my feet, hands to my head. No signal. I couldn't make any calls.

Of course not.

"Why would my phone get a fucking signal in an alien spaceship?" I said sarcastically to myself, bumping my phone against my forehead. "That would just be too easy, wouldn't it? Has to be difficult!"

If I sat and thought about it, I'd realize there was plenty of things lying around to block the signal. Not only was I miles away from civilization, but I was in the belly of an alien spaceship. Who knew what kind of electronic devices were giving off weird signals. They could have even been jamming communications on purpose.

Anger demanded I throw the phone. A pressure formed behind my eyes and I sniffed back frustrated tears. No matter how hard I stared at my phone, I couldn't will the reception to life.

Ditching the phone wouldn't help, either. It wasn't hurting anything from my pocket, and it still had battery life. If I did nothing else with it, I could use the flashlight feature to find my way around. If I was lucky, I might be able to find a spot where I could pick up a signal.

There was still the problem of what I would say, but I didn't need to go into details. All they needed to know was to send a search party.

And the entire military.

One of the women on the wall twitched and groaned. I suppressed a scream and scrambled to my feet into a half-baked battle stance. She coughed and my head jerked in her direction. I watched with fascinated horror as her body bucked, and the sound of her rib cage cracked like thunder.

Another body across the room from me started to lurch—but this man woke up.

He woke up screaming.

Not again. I didn't want to watch anymore people die. I didn't want to deal with the things that burst out of their chests like rocks through paper.

_Chestbursters._

It didn't matter that I ran. It didn't matter that I found the way out of that chamber. The sound of bones shattering and gore splattering the wall chased me into the hall before petering out. Even the man's screams came to an abrupt end.

Ahead of me, a dark shape hissed.

I didn't make it ten paces before I was face to face with one of the adult monsters. It stood in the middle of the hall, top lip drawn back and twitching. Even in the gloom I could see the glint of its silver fangs.

My breath caught in my throat and I backed away at a snail's pace, hands up and eyes locked on the beast. It rose from its crouch to stand upright and followed me, keeping the distance between us. Its posture was raptor-like, bent over and long arms hanging. Its tail brushed the floor behind it.

It pushed me back into the now-silent room. I backed up until I stumbled over one of the shoes I'd tried on earlier. Without thinking, I snatched up the steel-toed boot and stood.

Not a weapon, but it was all I had.

There wasn't a chance it would kill the biomechanical beast before me, but I had to do something. If anything, it might delay my death by a few minutes.

Teeth bared, the alien crouched low again and swung its head this way and that. It had no eyes, of that I was certain. Yet, the irate hiss it emitted as it took in the room made me think it could see. Destroyed eggs, dead facehuggers. . .general carnage.

Carnage I had caused.

And it knew.

Jaws parted and hissing, the creature rose to its full size and turned its smooth head toward me. I took a step back and it took a step toward me, tail lashing over its head. I was hyper-aware of every movement, every twitch and ripple of muscle, waiting for it to charge. It leaned forward like a snake about to strike and its leg muscles bunched.

I tensed in response, clutching my pitiful excuse for a weapon.

Singing crystal. The crunch of hard exoskeleton. Splattering blood.

A hole had appeared in the creature's midsection and it stopped short, mouth agape. It was almost comical if not for the fact that I couldn't see what had caused it.

And I was certain these things didn't suffer from spontaneous wounds.

If I squinted, I could see rivulets of blood dripping down an invisible force from its chest. It created an outline of something sharp. But why couldn't I see what it was?

Electricity charged the air and a new sound met my ears: a rattle. The creature jerked as the invisible blade wrenched upward, cleaving its chest in two. Behind it, the air shimmered and rippled like water, then it fell to the floor. My breath caught as something large appeared, standing erect like man.

Whatever it was, it was Arnold Schwarzenegger big. Maybe even bigger.

The thing looked like it was completely composed of muscle and sinew. Based on the shape of its body and the way it held itself, I had to wager it was male. Uniform, black dreads fell into place around its head, past its shoulders. A stern and impassive mask obscured its face.

Protruding from the gauntlet on its wrist was a dual set of curved blades. They showed no sign of corrosion from the creature's acid blood dripping from the tip.

They were _made_ to kill the serpents.

My heartbeat was thunder in my ears. Trembling started deep in my chest and radiated outward to my fingers and toes. Should I run? Stand my ground?

It—or he, as he appeared masculine—wore scarce armor over his thighs, shins, and wrists. He didn't seem like he _needed_ to wear even that much. Like he was Superman and his immaculate pectorals would deflect any attacks. A pair of knee-high boots protected his legs, and he wore an armored codpiece as well. Over his mottled torso was a mesh like fishnets, and I couldn't discern its purpose.

That was what I assumed at first glance. When I took the time to study him further, I noted several wounds. Were it not for the radioactive-green blood, I would have missed them.

If the injuries bothered him at all, he didn't show it.

This alien had to be the owner of the ship, or at least a crew member: the species appeared more sapient than the ones that had stolen me. He wore armor, used weapons, and that technology he had. . .he had been invisible!

With the way he had killed the serpent, I knew my initial guess was wrong. But if they weren't attack dogs, then what were they?

An infestation was the only sensible conclusion.

Space pests.

After a brief second of staring at one another he took a calculated step toward me. I mirrored his movement backwards. His wrist blades retracted with a metallic hiss and I jumped three feet in the air with a sharp cry. Without thinking, I chucked the boot at his head.

As soon as it left my hands, I knew it would be the death of me.

With stunning dexterity, he snatched it out of the air without so much as a flinch. My heart fell into my stomach and the color drained from my face. _What have I done?_

Even if the boot hit, it never would have hurt him.

He studied the boot for a few seconds, his head tilted to the side. His head cocked in the other direction when he directed his attention to me. Once more he made the rattling sound and I struggled to pull in air.

Thin, red lasers swept across the ground until they came to rest over my heart. Gasping, I staggered backwards and brushed at the front of my shirt, trying to rid myself of the dots. I knew it was pointless. I'd watched enough hitman movies to know a sniper bead when I saw one. There might have been three red dots instead of one, but the meaning was the same.

But I didn't know what else to do.

The boot thumped to the ground, dropped and forgotten. For a few heartbeats that stretched out to feel like hours, he appraised me. I wished I could see an expression, understand what he was thinking. Something mounted on his shoulder turned to face me. A gun? Was this how I was going to die? I swallowed hard and my muscles tensed, ready to fling myself out of the shot.

Yeah, as if.

Ages passed before he shifted his attention away from me. The laser targets arched across the devastation that I had wrought on the eggs. I doubted the scene would upset him, not after his kill. He turned away from me, making it clear he thought I was no threat, and chittered away. His shoulders rotated and he glanced back at me, then growled.

Those weren't angry sounds, I didn't think: they lacked authority. Was—was he _impressed_?

I moved a fraction of an inch to adjust my range of vision and that target snapped back to my chest. I immediately froze. The dots remained for a heartbeat or two, then he turned away with a derisive snort.

The target flickered out of existence.

He. . .wasn't going to kill me. Had I not been against a wall, I would have gone weak with relief. As it were, I remained upright and my eyes locked on him, just in case I'd misinterpreted his actions.

I held my breath and watched him as he moved. It was as if every movement animated his whole body, even the thick strands of braids swung with a sort of grace as he turned. I caught the glint of metal bands around each dreadlock, like jewelry.

Even though he seemed to have no interest in ending my life, I feared moving would provoke him into changing his mind. He stopped by each unconscious person in turn and stood in front of them. Each one he watched, and after a couple seconds, he sank his blade deep into their chests. Some were none the wiser, others on the cusp of awakening jerked and shuddered before falling still.

Gooseflesh prickled my skin and my stomach flopped. Were these mercy killings, or intended to put a stop to the breeding?

Whatever the case, I chose to believe the former.

As he went about his duty, I tried to wrap my head around it all. It was clear I posed no threat, but there couldn't be a reason to keep me alive, either. Maybe it was the destruction I'd caused, maybe it's because I wasn't impregnated. . . .

Maybe it was because we were on the same side. He wasn't asking me to join him, so he didn't want to be allies, though. So what was it?

In the end I decided it didn't matter. He wasn't going to kill me.

That was good enough.

For a while I watched him, trying to decide what to do. Once he finished off all the infected people, he headed for the exit. Before he turned the corner, his body melted out of view. Camouflage? A cloaking device?

Even though he wasn't going to kill me now, there was a chance he might cause me issue later. Would we meet again while I was trying to escape? What if he stopped me?

Wait. . . . He would know where the exit to the ship was and how to leave. Should I have asked him? I brushed the thought aside soon as it entered my mind; even if he could understand me, there was nothing he'd gain from helping me.

But I didn't want to be alone. Maybe I should have asked to come with him.

We could have found some way to communicate.

Anderson had told me to escape, that the best chance for my friends' survival was to find help. What could have been my only possible means of escape was walking away as I stood there, trying to decide what to do.

Time was ticking and he was moving further away. There was a single, straight hallway out of the room, so I was confident I could catch up.

He was my ticket out of here, and he was armed, but that meant it was a gamble. He would be more than capable of killing me if I annoyed him, or if he didn't want a tag-along. It also meant that if there was danger around, he would be ready for it.

I had nothing, and he had everything.

My best bet was to follow him around and hope he didn't try to kill me when he found me stalking him. I could ride in his wake and maybe get out alive.


	6. Cast a Shadow

**Hello, readers!**

**The next chapters (5-10) are a single update. x.x It's long over due and I'm real sorry about the wait for these edited chapters. Hopefully they're good, though! There's a lot more going on, a new enemy, and more. . .goodness? I hope? I don't know. See more in the A/N on chapter ten!**

**This chapter has been updated as of 5/7/2016.**

**~Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Five

Cast a Shadow

The ship was more of a maze than I first guessed. Though the original hallway was a straight shot out of the chamber, it splintered after several yards. I hadn't seen hide nor hair of the humanoid since I'd left, and the idea that I might not find him again sent shivers up my spine.

I held my breath and listened for footsteps or the rattling sound he made. Anything that would let me know in which direction he'd gone.

There were too many options, even after some of them were blocked by fallen debris.

Despair settled in my chest like a stone: nothing but silence met my efforts.

"No. . .no," I muttered, my voice a whisper. My hands trembled and I brushed away the wetness on my cheeks. Though there was no one to talk to but myself, the silence would drive me mad. "Come back, give me something—anything."

The semi-darkness was worse than actual darkness: it spread shadows that toyed with me. It conjured sounds that weren't there.

I picked one left-most path on a whim and ventured into the darkness. Wandering without a sense of direction was dangerous, but there wasn't much else I could do. It was also the only plan I'd had before deciding to stalk an alien, as well. I didn't know what I'd expected, knowing he was invisible.

How do you follow something you can't see?

Not two minutes into my chosen trail, a screech sounded from behind me. I twisted, throwing myself to the ground to avoid an unseen attack. It was my first experience with a knee-jerk reaction.

A roar followed that screech. I was on my feet again in an instant, sprinting back the way I had come, stopping again at the splintering corridors. After a second I heard the sounds again and took off down a different path. There was no way I was going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers. If I wandered alone much longer, something would kill me.

So I ran toward the noises, ignoring the voice in my head telling me to run _away_. The danger was where he was, and even injured after the crash he was better off than I.

Who knew if it was even _my _humanoid. There had to be other passengers aboard that survived. Others that might not hesitate to end me. Even if it was a different one, one that wouldn't bat an eye at killing me, I had to risk it.

Whatever or whoever it was, they were fighting off multiple enemies. Part of me thought I could help.

_Right. With what weapon? _

The only thing I had resembling one were the steel-toed boots I had looted, and they were too big for me. Too heavy. I couldn't hope to _kick_ the aliens to death, even if they were the right fit.

Gave me a funny mental image, though.

The cluttered hallway opened into an equally cluttered room. There were several pieces of technology strewn about, broken and sparking. Two serpents perched upon the wreckage, their backs to me and the humanoid standing in front of them. I stopped short, afraid they'd see me, but skidded on slime. My arms wind-milled to keep me upright and I stumbled backwards into the hallway, out of sight.

Though the wall obscured my vision in part, I was able to recognize the humanoid as the one from before: the same mask, the same wounds. He held a spear in his hands as he squared off with the shadowy aliens.

Two serpents. One Mr. Universe contestant.

He loosed his spear, pinning one to the wall. It's comrade reacted in kind, leaping at him, but he grabbed it by the throat before it could cause him harm. His wrist blades sang from their gauntlet and he held them over his head. The monster in his grip lashed its tail violently, but was unable to find its mark before he plunged the serrated bladed down, slicing its head in half. He let it go and it dropped lifeless to the ground.

Number Two thrashed where the spear had it pinned, hissing and spitting. Each time it opened its mouth, a second set of jaws popped out, snapping at the air. A shudder went up my spine, but at least it wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

Other serpents were strewn about; he'd already killed so many. Smoke rose from their corpses—or rather, from the floor they settled on. To think he'd taken the half dozen or so aliens by himself. . .while injured. I didn't know _how_ hurt he was, but between the crash and his fights, he had to be in bad shape.

Everything I'd seen so far indicated to the contrary.

He sauntered up to the pinned alien, as if he had all the time in the world. It hissed and lashed out at him with its long, deadly tail. With the same deftness he'd shown earlier, when I'd thrown the boot, he caught the appendage and sliced the sharp tip clean off. The alien screeched in rage, but the humanoid's blade shut it down.

The serpent slumped to the floor as he yanked his spear free. Both his blades and the spear retracted with a metallic hiss; his wrist blades disappeared into his gauntlet, and the spear telescoped inward from both ends.

Like the toy lightsaber my brother played with all the time.

After he considered the corpses he made, the humanoid turned toward my hiding place. I ducked further behind the wall and held my breath, hoping that he hadn't seen me. That same curious chittering noise reached me from my hiding place.

Had I been spotted?

I waited a few seconds before I allowed myself to exhale. Slowly, I leaned so that only half of my face was poking out from the wall. His back was to me, his form receding into the dark tunnel on the other side of the room. After a few more of his long steps I was on my feet, crouching low and trailing after him.

This time he didn't disappear into thin air. I figured it had something to do with the fact that the aliens he was hunting didn't have any eyes. After all, what good was it to hide if your enemy didn't see?

As I trotted after him, I stuck close to the walls. Despite all my conditioning for soccer, I was sweating and panting after only a few minutes. The ship was too hot for the clothes I was wearing, but I didn't want to remove my jacket. Not when it was another layer to protect my fragile skin.

So I would deal with a little perspiration and thirst. Any ounce of protection would help.

If he ever noticed me following him, he showed no signs. It made me feel like I was doing some real spy stuff. Enough time had passed that my heart rate evened out and the adrenaline had faded. All my nerves were on edge still, but I was no longer in flight or fight mode.

It was several minutes before I caught him looking over his shoulder at me. I knew I wasn't being as quiet as I could have been with my over-sized military boots, but I was doing my best.

Each time he turned his head toward me I ducked behind something to hide when I could, and other times I could only flatten myself on the floor. A thick mist floated above ground, and I hoped it covered me well enough. In every instance, he'd wait a few seconds, crackling to himself in a strange way, then move on.

I hated sitting in the fog. It was thick and cloying on my tongue, stealing my breath.

But I stuck it out, more afraid of being caught than of holding my breath for a few seconds.

He moved through the dark corridors with practiced ease, even without a light. I chalked it up to him knowing the ship like the back of his hand. Maybe his mask helped.

Unlike me, who was left to bumble about in the pitch.

An upturned floor panel reached up and grabbed my foot. I let out an undignified squawk before I could stop myself, but managed not to eat it. For a moment I held perfectly still to make sure he hadn't heard, but he wasn't even in sight.

Panic quickened my steps, but as I turned down a bend I found him. He crouched close to the floor, rubbing his fingers together. He stood as I appeared and moved on.

When he was ahead, I scuttled to where he'd been and examined the slime smeared there.

I glanced up, then left to make sure I didn't lose him.

After following him around for who knew how long, I did just that. I couldn't seem to catch my breath no matter what, and even if I pushed myself, the heat and thick air sapped my strength and slowed my every stride.

As I was thinking about giving up, a scuffle urged me onward. When I arrived, I found him under attack in the hallway, facing off with another serpent. I hid, crouched by the stifling floor, and watched him square off with the creature. He widened his stance, arms up and fingers splayed, but had yet to draw a weapon.

Why didn't he use the gun? He'd almost shot me with it earlier, but I had yet to see him kill the alien serpents with it.

Saving ammo?

Instead he favored his wrist blade, extending it with a flex of muscle. There was something different about the alien he was facing: it wasn't so black, more of a muddy brown. The big protrusions I'd noted on others were smaller, and it seemed almost hesitant to attack. Instead it circled, hunched and wary, hissing warnings.

Somehow it seemed smaller. The others I faced had appeared larger than life, and they all held themselves with far more confidence. It was possible there were different types of aliens, I supposed. Not even humans were all the same, after all.

Before I could further study the smaller alien, the humanoid man-beast made his move. He lunged and the serpent hissed, meeting him half way in an act of self-defense. Their grappling match didn't last long, maybe fifteen seconds. My escort dispatched it with a few swipes of his blade, growling in satisfaction.

Just like the rest, the ground hissed where the creature landed. It hadn't happened in the egg chamber, where slime and resin covered the floors and walls.

The acid on my boots, on the floors. . . . It didn't seem to affect themselves.

Lost in thought, I nearly missed the sharp growl from across the room. I'd been staring at the dead serpent, captivated by the fact that these things had acid blood. My unwitting escort had made the noise, and by the time I looked up, his back was to me and he was leaving.

I was beginning to believe he _did_ know I was following him. Maybe that he even _wanted_ me to. I couldn't think of why, though, so I brushed the thought aside.

Careful not to step in the corrosive blood, I jogged after the humanoid. He was already around another corner. When I caught up, I made sure to keep at least ten steps behind him, sometimes even farther back. If I was too far behind, I couldn't see him in the darkness, and I didn't want to lose him again. The next time I did, I might not find him again.

Where was he even going? Something told me it wasn't out of the ship.

It seemed more likely, based on the way he followed their trails, that he was hunting them. He reacted to each screech with a sharp turn, an idle rattle. Every now and again he would check a digital map projected from his wrist computer and alter course.

Holograms. Should have expected it.

Sometimes I thought he was looking for something else, as well. Several times I lost him, only to find him emerging from a room. His movements were always subdued afterwards, head tilted down and shoulders rolling. Either he didn't like what he found, or he hadn't found what he wanted to. He always closed the doors behind him, so I never found out what was inside.

Every one of my muscles ached. The heat was dragging me down and I thought about ditching my jacket several times, only to remind myself that I needed it. My throat was dry, and I lagged farther and farther behind.

Soon, he was out of eyesight and hearing range.

Sweat dripped down my brow and I knew I couldn't handle it any longer. I shed my winter coat and tied it around my waist, loathe to leave it behind. I was instantly cooler, and I rolled up my shirt's long sleeves.

If I could take off my long underwear, I would have.

I needed to take a break, to catch my breath, but I couldn't afford it. I'd never been so breathless after walking, and it felt like something was squeezing my chest. In areas where the mist was thickest, I found the hardest time breathing.

It had to be the atmosphere in the ship, or the mist itself. Something to help the humanoid's species breathe. The system must not have been damaged in the crash.

Whatever it was, it didn't agree with my lungs.

Still I pushed on. Having a hard time breathing wasn't something I was new to. It wasn't like it in every part of the ship, either. It seemed to worsen deeper in, only for me to find relief in other sections. Malfunctioning equipment, no doubt. Or holes in the hull leaking air from outside. Possibly both.

Finally, several minutes after losing him, I found him. Loose wires and tubing concealed his shape, but I caught a glimpse of him standing statue-still, his head inclined in my direction. When I pushed through the fallen circuitry, his back was to me and he was walking again.

He couldn't have been waiting for me. I had to have imagined it. I couldn't fathom where he'd be leading me or why he'd be leading me there.

Unless it was a trap.

That was an all-too-real possibility and I considered abandoning the game I was playing. He wasn't looking for an exit and I was, so I would be better off finding my own way.

No, there wasn't even an ounce of truth in that. I had no weapon, and so far he'd fielded all the attacks. Not only that, but the ship was huge. I'd been following him for what seemed to be an hour and I felt like we hadn't even scratched the surface. What more could there be in the ship? How many rooms, how many paths? There was no way I would be able to navigate it.

Following him was still my best shot. Maybe I should let him catch me, or force him to acknowledge me. I was tired of sticking to the shadows, wondering where we were going. If he wasn't going to kill me, then maybe I could convince him to help and stop the game of cat and mouse.

What did I have to lose by trying? Well, except my life.

With that thought in mind, I stood up straight and jogged around the corner. He'd passed it only seconds before me, so it would be nothing to catch him.

I trotted into the next hallway and found it empty. No humanoid. No serpents.

There was nothing but mist and a few panels from the ceiling hanging down.

Wherever he'd gone to, he'd taken my hope with him.

_Of course._

He'd been suspicious of my stalking the entire time. It was only a matter of _when_ he tired of my shenanigans and cloaked himself to ditch me. I hurried for a while longer, thinking maybe he'd pulled farther ahead of me than I thought, but he wasn't there.

He wasn't anywhere. Just gone.

"Shit, shit, shit," I whispered, running my hand through my damp, sticky ponytail.

Now I was alone.

Now I was going to have to find the way out on my own.

And fend off those things by myself. . .somehow.

After a few deep breaths to steady myself, I accepted my fate. I'd have to cut my losses and leave the damned ship. Plan B hadn't worked, so it was back to Plan A—wander aimlessly and try to find my way out as fast as I could. My escort had caught me and decided he didn't want to fill that position anymore. There had to be a way off: the black bug-serpent-things were finding a way, and they were blind for Pete's sake.

All around me, the darkness closed in and threatened to drag me under. Dread crept into my soul and I fought not to drown.

High up on the walls, strange markings gave off an ambient red glow. Though their main purpose didn't seem to be lighting the way, it kept me from being cast in utter darkness. I focused on the lights and let them chase away the shadows.

Nerves steeled, I rubbed my face and followed the hallway onward.

*:･ﾟ✧

Desperate and afraid, I followed a noise and everything it promised down a hallway. I didn't know exactly what the sound was, but it meant something was alive.

And, at the very least, that something _wasn't _a serpent.

Without a deadline or a pace to keep up with, I'd taken a moment to find a niche and wiggle in to rest. I'd shed some of my other layers, shuffling clothes around until I was no longer wearing my long johns, just the long-sleeve shirt and my jeans. It lightened my load and cooled me down, and I left them there, seeing no reason to keep them.

It was around that time that the sound started.

Whatever it was, it began as a faint whisper on the stale air. I hadn't heard anything in nearly twenty minutes, which I'd counted as a blessing. After it reached me, I had a new goal and I'd clung to it, hoping it was the humanoid or another person.

Minutes into the corridor, the sound was louder and easier to comprehend: a voice.

A human voice.

Despite the heat, ice crawled down the back of my neck and I broke into a light jog, following the call for help. It was weak, as if they had given up hope but still felt the need to try. Though I didn't recognize it, I was all too happy to see another living person.

The voice of reason deep within my mind reminded me they were likely dead to rights. But I pushed such thoughts away. If it meant having company for a while, so be it.

"Hello?" I called, voice soft and timid. I'd reached an opening in the wall, the room inside a dark void. It was where I'd heard the person calling, but I wasn't about to enter until I was certain. All was quiet in the room for a moment.

After a pause, they spoke up. "Someone's there? Oh thank god, get in here and help me down."

I rubbed and squeezed my hands together, uncertain. The nagging voice in my head was telling me to leave them to their death. Visions of Anderson bucking and choking bubbled to the surface and I clenched my eyes shut against them.

"You still there? Hurry up before those sons of bitches come back! What are you waiting for?"

Bad thoughts be damned. I didn't want to be alone.

"Coming," I answered, venturing into the darkness.

Several steps in, I tripped over something knee-high and soft. I hit the ground, jarring my wrists, and scrambled to my feet.

"Watch it," the man inside hissed. "There are eggs all over the place."

The room was darker than any other so far. A light flickered in the corner, but the room had lost power otherwise.

_"There are eggs all over the place."_

All color drained from my face when I realized what that meant. I didn't know why it came as a surprise, but it left a bad taste in my mouth all the same.

My sight attuned to the dark and my pulse roared in my ears—more people on the wall. Open eggs. Dead facehuggers peppering the ground. Holes in chests. I panted ragged breaths, tears pricking my eyes. For a moment I'd forgotten about the man I'd come to help and all I saw were the people staring at me with their sightless gazes.

"Hey! Don't—Christ, you're just a kid. Okay, listen. Look at me. I'm over here. Hey!"

His commanding tone was enough to snap me from my waking nightmare. I searched the room until my attention fell on the only living and conscious person present.

There were plenty of military people, and others yet were the missing hikers and rangers.

"Yes, that's it. Come here and help me down. Please." His tone was softer, his expression sympathetic. I hesitated another moment, then picked my way around the eggs until I stood before him. Something squished under my boots but I didn't dare look.

"What's your name?" he asked as I started pulling at the resin cocoon confining him to the wall.

I didn't look up from my work, and little by little I wore down the material. "Nichole."

"Nichole what?"

His arm came free and he helped to break apart the rest of his prison. I replied, "Nichole Shain."

He didn't offer his name until the cocoon was loose enough for him to fall free. I backed up to give him room and he wiggled out of the last strains of resin, then fell to the floor. I offered him a hand and he let me help him to his shaky legs. How much time did he have?

"Name's Henry Simmons. Thanks for the assist, Ms. Shain. How'd you get out? How long have you been here? This is a quarantined zone, didn't Anderson tell everyone to stay away? What about our perimeters. . . ," he muttered, holding tight to my shoulder.

Anderson's name sent a sharp pang through my heart and I lowered my head. "There wasn't anyone at the park, we hiked in and the things got us. Anderson. . .he helped me escape."

Simmons nodded and shifted his grip to my upper arm, squeezing hard enough to hurt. I ignored the pain and stumbled after him as he dragged me toward the opening. He glanced at me and said, "He's not with you, so I assume he's dead?"

I nodded and fought to keep my face from twisting with anguish.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hand to his head. He glanced around, then pushed us against the wall, peering into the brighter hallway. Every few seconds, he suppressed a cough. "Have you run into any other survivors?"

"You're the first."

_Except for the alien gladiator. _

"There's no telling how many of those things are out there. We'll have to move quick. Stay behind me and stay quiet." He paused to cough and cleared his throat. "Don't know how far I'll make it, but I'll get you out."

My gaze fell to the empty holster on his hip and I blinked. No gun. No weapon. He couldn't do any of those things without a weapon.

"Where's your gun?" I asked aloud.

He glanced at his belt, then did a double take.

"Shit," he muttered, patting himself down. "I must have dropped it when those fuckers dragged me here. We'll have to hurry before the eggs start hatching. Stay here."

Without another thought he went to work rooting through the effects of the others. I stood against the wall, wringing my hands, my eyes locked on the eggs. They seemed dormant now, but I knew they could start hatching at any moment.

"Be careful with guns," I advised. "When I used one earlier it lured a bunch of the black things to where I was."

Simmons glanced over his shoulder, but otherwise paid my warning no heed. "Where is it now?"

"What?"

"The gun."

I pressed my lips together and fidgeted where I stood. "It ran out of ammo so I left it."

"Fair enough."

It was amazing how easy it was for him, moving from corpse to corpse without a care. How many times had he had to do this very thing?

Chewing on my bottom lip, I poked my head out of the room to check the corridor. There were no enemies, but screeches were coming from deep within. Even though he told me to stay put, I didn't want to be alone at the only entrance. I shuffled over to him but gave him some space.

"Find anything?" I asked after a moment. We'd been in there too long, and the eggs made me uncomfortable. They started to rustle.

When he turned around, he was holding a single handgun and a tactical knife. He handed me the knife and began examining the gun. The knife was heavier than I thought it would be, but it filled me with a bit of confidence. The blade itself wasn't very big, but it was ten times better than nothing.

_Nice, now I can stab one whole alien. Probably wouldn't even kill it._

I wished the voice in my head would keep quiet for once.

"They ambushed us at our base," Simmons said, slapping the clip back into the gun. "We had all our firepower back there, so there's not much here. I've got ten shots, so let's try not to meet these fuckers on the way out."

His coughing started again and set my shoulders to trembling. I tracked his movements as he started to the doorway, my mouth hanging open with unspoken words.

One of the eggs squelched and I jumped, then ran to catch up with Simmons.

"Are you okay?" I asked, standing by his side and holding my knife in both hands. He strafed along the walls and I followed behind with half the stealth he showed, knowing it did no good. "You know what happens to people, right?"

He motioned for me to follow, then stopped and doubled over. My muscles coiled into tight springs as he wheezed and hacked, shoulders rocking. Each sharp breath he drew caused pins and needles to prickle across my skin, but eventually he straightened. He cleared his throat and said, "I'll be fine for a little bit. What about you?"

"I got out before anything could happen. If Anderson hadn't helped, I wouldn't have made it out at all," I murmured, gripping the collar of my shirt.

Nodding, Simmons kept us moving.

"Ah, wait." He stopped and dug around in his pocket, then produced a handful of chains and a bunch of ID cards. "Hold these for me. Did you happen to grab the ones from the room you were in?"

I took the chains and untangled them, finding the flat metal of dog tags. He'd been looking for more than just weapons on those bodies and my throat tightened. "No I, I didn't think. . .didn't know I should have. . . ."

Simmons pat my shoulder and offered a terse smile. "That's fine, I didn't expect you to, just asking, that's all."

"Why do you need them?" I asked as we walked, draping each tag around my neck.

"Don't know what these things do. They might eat us, and then we wouldn't be able to identify the bodies. Could just leave 'em for when backup arrives, but easier to grab 'em now."

"Backup?" I stuck the hikers' IDs in my pockets and tucked the dog tags under my shirt.

"We're supposed to check in at 0600, and when we don't they'll come."

That was so far away, I realized after I checked my phone. Another few hours. However, if they were coming that meant there was hope I'd make it out.


	7. Die Trying

**Hello, readers!**

**Keeping this update train going. As always, let me know if anything's off!**

**This chapter has been updated as of 5/7/2016.**

**~Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Six

Die Trying

The dog tags bumped my chest as we moved, and I had a sinking feeling that Simmons gave them to me because he knew they had a better chance of making it out.

Three minutes later, the hallway forked and Simmons led me down the right-side path, and it was mere steps down the path before one of the serpents found us. Its high-pitched cry shattered my nerves and Simmons pulled me behind him, gun sighted.

Sure, I manage to avoid coming upon one _until_ I buddy up with a partner.

Darkness extended in front and behind. Simmons backed up, pushing me against a wall, and I held still with the flat side of the knife against my chest.

Something dripped on my shoulder from above; chrome fangs glistened as I turned my gaze. The scream ripped from my throat before I could stop it and I pushed away from the wall, blundering into Simmons. The soldier shouted and shoved me around so he could stay in front of me.

"How the fuck did it get behind us?" he growled, firing at the ebony beast.

It squealed and ducked as the bullets pelted its head, but it seemed to have little more effect than a BB gun. Simmons pushed us backwards as it leaped down from its perch, tail lashing behind it and teeth bared. I held the knife out with both hands, but I wasn't sure what good it would do.

Too late I thought about counting his shots.

He fired a few more rounds, those bullets finding target in the alien's chest. It staggered and squealed, yellow acid dripping from the wounds, but it seemed only to make it angrier.

That was all he had. His gun clicked several times and he spat a curse before throwing it at our enemy. The firearm bounced off its armored head and it hissed in irritation. Simmons turned and wrenched the knife from my grasp and a protest died in my throat.

What was I going to do with it that he couldn't do better?

Though Simmons was doing his best to hide it, I could see how much pain he was in. He was doubled over, one arm pressed against his chest and teeth gritted. His shoulders hunched inward and he suppressed a cough before speaking.

"Run, I'll hold it off. You have to get out of here!" he demanded. I stood paralyzed for a moment, wondering if I could help but knowing it was pointless.

He shouted, "Go on!"

This time I didn't hesitate. The authority in his voice was enough to send me sprinting in the opposite direction. Behind me the serpent screeched and Simmons yelled a battle cry. My legs pumped and I didn't look back.

_Running again_.

_Always leaving others behind._

What could I do? He'd taken my weapon, and he was going to die no matter what. If not from the serpent, then from the one growing inside him.

The helplessness sapped my strength and my will. I could do nothing but run and rely on other people to save me. The monsters were invincible to anything but what the humanoid carried. He'd made it clear that he didn't want a tag-along, so I was as good as dead in here.

No one would save me, and I was barely capable of saving myself.

Running was all I could do to delay the inevitable.

Simmons didn't buy me much time. I didn't expect him to. It still startled me when the monster struck me from behind and knocked me flat on my stomach.

I flipped over onto my back and had just enough time to roll out of the way before its tail could skewer me. There wasn't enough time to stand. I kept rolling as its tail stabbed into the ground after me, then jerked to a stop when it pinned my jacket.

My hands fumbled with the knot while the serpent fought to free its tail. The jacket came loose first and I crawled away from it a ways before scrambling to my feet. Not long after, it shunted into me and I was sent sprawling again. The wind rushed from my lungs and I wheezed, still trying to find my footing. Claws raked down my back, tearing my shirt and skin, and I wailed, my back arched.

Cold metal brushed my fingers and they curled around a piece of debris the size of a football. My teeth ground together and I turned around swinging.

Somehow, I hit.

The sound of metal against chitin was satisfying, but my elbows jarred at the impact. It wasn't even enough to stun it for more than a split second. The serpent-bug lashed out in kind, smacking me with a strong claw. I was reduced to being prone once more, my impromptu weapon sent skittering across the floor and out of reach.

This time I couldn't stand before it was on me, pinning me down. It bared its teeth in a perverted version of a grin.

No matter how I struggled, it wouldn't budge.

Out of the corner of my eye its tail rose, arched high and poised to strike. Tears fell uninhibited down my cheeks and I choked out a helpless sob. It hissed and viscous saliva dripped from its maw, pooling on my chest. Its tail made it three inches through the air before jerking to a stop. Though it didn't remove its weight from atop me, the beast went rigid. Claws drew pinpricks of pain in my arm as it turned its head to see what held it.

Just as before, the humanoid alien melted into view, taloned hand holding the tail.

At the same time the serpent turned to strike, he heaved the thing through the air with a mighty swing. It slammed into the wall and he approached its crumpled form with a low rattle.

Before it could recover, he pulled his spear from its place on his back. It extended with a flourish and he thrust it through the alien's skull in the same graceful swing. It let out a strangled screech before going limp where it was.

_Head shots, like a zombie._

I tore my gaze from the corpse to look up at him. He twitched his head to the side, dreadlocks clattering together. The same mask. It was my good old buddy.

Somehow, he'd found me.

Or had he never left? Had he been following me the whole time? It seemed impossible that he'd just happen upon me by luck. There hadn't been any signs, though. He hadn't made any noises or anything. I couldn't imagine why he would have been following me, why he would have gone through the trouble.

We watched each other for a few seconds before I averted my gaze. I managed to sit up and wrap my arms around myself to keep from splitting at the seams. Tremors threatened to shake loose all my bits and pieces.

_It was going to kill me. _

No more escape. No more chances. It wasn't going to cocoon me to a wall and try again. The alien just wanted me out of the picture.

But he'd come, and he'd stopped it.

He had to have been following me. I'd turned down so many random corridors for almost half an hour, forty-five minutes. There was no way he happened upon me. Following me made no sense, either, so I wondered if he'd heard the commotion nearby and came to investigate.

Why bother saving me? Maybe he hadn't done it on purpose.

I picked myself up and winced when the various scratches rubbed against the fabric of my clothes. Shouldn't have taken my jacket off.

"Have you been following me?" I asked, tone sharper than I'd intended.

He turned to face me full on and I quailed. So close to him I realized exactly how giant he was. Never had I felt so small and weak: he had to be eight feet tall, maybe three hundred pounds. All of it muscle, and he was armed to the teeth.

_Don't sass the armed killing machine_.

What was I doing anyway, talking to an alien? It wasn't like he could understand me. For all he knew I was insulting his mother.

When he took another step toward me I snapped my head up, afraid he might strike me. I would have moved backwards more, but there was a wall blocking my path. My fear flared and I lifted my hands as if to protect myself from his attack—as if it were possible.

One backhand was sure to leave me down for the count.

His head tilted to the side, and then a voice echoed from his mask. _"Have you been following me?"_ it asked.

Not his voice. Mine, tinny and mechanical.

A recording? Was he recording everything? Communication, surveillance, research, there were plenty of reasons why he might do that, but the thing that struck me the most was that he understood what I'd asked. He comprehended enough of what I'd said to play back the correct phrase and throw my question back in my face. What the hell kind of alien was this, and how long had they been on Earth?

Or how often did they _visit_ Earth?

"You can understand me?" I asked, my head spinning at all the possibilities and implications. He'd known I'd been following him, and now I felt only embarrassment at thinking I'd been slick.

_Nichole: World-class spy. As if._

After glancing me over, he made a gruff sound and dipped his head once. It was a slow, deliberate, and exaggerated motion. It wasn't the quick nods I was used to, but close enough.

Translator, or good with languages?

I opened my mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out so I closed it again. He filled the silence by playing my voice back at me once more, demanding to know. I imagined the low chittering sound he made now was in irritation as I ignored his question.

My mouth bobbed as I tried to find the words, then I finally said, "I asked you first."

He snorted and extended his hand toward me, making me flinch in expectation of an attack. Instead, the weight pressed on my shoulder and he moved me out of the way with shove. The action sent me staggering behind him, nearly falling.

Biting back a protest I turned, watching him. I was against a wall, so I hadn't been in his way. He'd just shoved me because he was mad and started to walk away, leaving me behind.

His form melted into nothingness.

_Not this time. _

"Hey! Hey come back here!" I shouted, running him down in the hallway after grabbing my jacket. I slammed into his invisible back with enough force to almost flatten me and he reappeared with a snarl, whirling around to face me.

Without flinching I regained my balance. "I'm coming with you!" I snapped.

The humanoid cocked his head to the side and rumbled an incredulous question. Before he could make any more noise, I continued on with my rant. "I can help, or something. I'll. . .I can be bait, or if you give me a weapon I can fight!"

_Like he'd give you one_.

He regarded me for several heartbeats and I tried to seem firm. I hoped he didn't notice the way my hands trembled, or how my heart stuttered. After several seconds, he turned to the side and made a wry crackling sound before playing back another clip of my voice. _"Bait."_

It wasn't what I'd hoped, but he was going to let me follow him around nonetheless.

Despite how he ignored my question on purpose, I asked again. "Can I at least have a weapon?"

His head shook and at first I thought it was to indicate in the negative, but he looked around. I surmised it might be to show exasperation, but I wasn't sure. I waited for him to do whatever it was he was doing, and finally he walked toward the wall and leaned down to pick something up.

_"Weapon,"_ he played back, dropping a piece of scrap metal into my waiting palm. The same piece of scrap metal I'd used on the serpent moments prior.

My expression flattened and I huffed. He'd been watching at least that long.

"Oh you got jokes, do ya?" Under my breath I added, "Bastard. . . ."

Still, I kept it held tightly in my hand as he pushed me onward.

*:･ﾟ✧

Minutes into our journey, I spotted Simmons' prone form ahead. I crept toward him only to find he was missing his chest. Squeaking, I fumbled backwards into the solid wall that was my guide. He growled and steered me around the body, his heavy hand on my shoulder. I glanced back at the soldier I'd known for all of two minutes, then let the humanoid push me on.

_You knew,_ I reminded myself. _It wasn't going to end any other way for him._

Closing my eyes tight, I tried to ignore the playback image of his face. I took a deep breath and shoved it into the back of my mind with the rest of the horrific shit.

Simmons was otherwise unmarred by other injuries. The creature had ignored him for me.

From there on, my escort remained in cloak during our travels. I could hear him behind me, but only if I listened really hard for the sound of his footfalls. For being so huge, he could be silent as a cat. It was almost as if he wasn't there at all. Like I was alone.

Whenever I was close to panicking, he came up behind me and bumped my shoulder, as if reminding me he was there. Even though he was a little rough, it always served to calm me down. I couldn't decide if he was doing it for the express purpose of comforting me, or if it was in his best interest. I imagined he wouldn't put up with me having a breakdown.

I didn't want to have a panic attack in front of him, either. Not after talking all that good shit to convince him to take me with him.

Still, for the first time that night, I felt sort of safe.

Safe enough to pull my phone and use the flashlight. Safe enough to walk tall instead of crouched and scuttling like a rat in a sewer.

The numbers on my screen told me I'd been on the ship for a little more than two hours. The sun would rise in another three or four, but it would be longer than that before my parents realized I was missing: I slept in late on the weekends.

But, only two and a half hours until the military realized something was wrong.

_Focus. Focus._

I was still holding the hunk of metal that he'd given me. The whole thing had been his sad attempt at humor I was sure, but there I was, hanging on to it anyway.

In the end it gave me something to concentrate on other than my impending doom.

We walked in never ending silence, though questions about him and his race burned inside me. He could understand me, but it seemed unlikely he would be able to communicate to me with any clarity. I wasn't sure how comfortable I was to be able to strum up conversation, anyway.

Navigating was difficult. I had no idea where I was going, so I had to rely on my escort's rough shoves in the right direction.

Outside of the egg chambers, there wasn't much resin coating the passages. Some places had the beginnings of nest material, but left unfinished for whatever reason. There wasn't much to see in the hallways except for the occasional strange marking or broken panels. The mist swirled around our feet, and my chest burned.

Every time we passed a doorway (most of them I didn't see until he went through them), he would pull me to a stop. The first few times I would attempt to follow him, and each time he growled at me until I finally stopped trying.

"What are you looking for?" I asked when he emerged from one such room.

As I expected, he answered with nothing more than a chuff and pushed me onward. The bright green blood of his people tipped his fingers.

We came to a fork in the path and he gave me no indication of which way to go, so I picked one at random. His means of correcting me was to grab my arm with a too-hard grip and whirled me around in the opposite direction. It was followed by a reprimanding, sharp trill. It almost sent me sprawling to the floor, but I caught myself.

"Watch it, meat head! Don't make me lead if you don't like where I go!" I barked at him, indignant. I regretted it as soon as it was out of my mouth, but he didn't chide or strike me.

Probably because he knew he'd break his new toy if he did.

Despite the fact that we'd been wandering for what seemed like hours we didn't run into any signs of life. There were no night-black monsters, and none of his kind. We heard them, though, and their horrible nails-on-chalkboard screech.

I was doing what I could, too. I called out every now and again, trying to see if I could bait a creature into coming or maybe even find other survivors. The section of the ship we were in was devoid of life. He seemed unconcerned with what I did until I tried to go down the wrong path—a path that he seemed to want to take.

There were others on the ship, though. His hands were stained with the blood of his fallen friends. He was looking for more survivors.

When I was about to ask and confirm my thoughts, a sound in the distance brought us both to pause. It was far different from the sounds the rest made: louder, angrier. A raspy roar that ended with a rolling hiss. Seconds later it was followed by a bellow like a high-pitched tyrannosaurs.

Whatever it was, it was coming toward us. The hall was soon filled with sudden pulses of shrill, echoing crackles. They were not unlike the rattling sounds he made.

"What is that?" I asked, my voice small as I lifted a hand to see if I could touch him. Find him.

My escort reappeared with an arch of electricity and shoved me forward into a sprint. He didn't have to tell me twice, but I didn't run far before he shoved me into a dark room. He swung me around by the arm until I was flat against the wall and out of view of the hallway. I grunted and shot him a glare, rubbing my arm.

It was a small chamber, empty save for the irregular lumps in the center and a single metal table against the wall. There were no people mounted up in cocoons, though the walls were decorated with dried slime. Eggs had been left there for storage.

Waiting for victims to impregnate.

_Impregnate._ The word sent tremors chasing down my spine.

Another bout of echoing crackles resonated down the hall and brought me from my trance. I poked my head out to look down the hallway, but saw nothing. My escort was still outside, fingers flexing at his sides. Every now and again I heard terse clicking from under his mask.

Far down the hallway, something moved.

I turned a questioning gaze to him, but his attention was down the corridor. The shrill roar made me jump and I ducked behind the wall, clutching the metal in my hands.

"What's going on? What are we doing?" I asked in a stage whisper.

He turned toward me, then pointed at the spot I was standing. I blinked at him and shook my head. He babbled nonsense at me and put his palm up. That was a sign I knew: stay. Then he turned away and disappeared down the hallway, not bothering with his invisibility.

My eyes narrowed and I let out my breath in a rush of air. "Wonderful."

Aggravated, I turned my repressed anger to the nearest egg, pushing it over onto its side with the flat of my foot. I applied pressure until it popped like a melon and spilled unpleasantness all over the floor at my feet.

As if the creature knew, it shrieked and heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. I turned in time to see my escort shooting past the doorway.

Was he. . ._running_?

Fear wrapped its icy fingers around my heart and I dove to the floor, away from the opening so I was out of sight. Each step the unseen monster took, the ground shuddered. I pressed myself hard against the wall and clapped my hands over my ears to block out the rapid sounds pummeling the air.

There was no way anything less than a train was barreling down the hallway. It shook the ground as it pounded after my escort, snorting and hissing. My wall shook and rained dust and small chunks of debris over me. That strange clicking continued, rapid and unrelenting. I clenched my eyes, took a breath, then leaned out the opening as it passed to take a peek at what it was. I only caught a glimpse, but from that I knew one thing: it was _massive. _

It barely fit in the hallway, tearing down panels and wiring as it crashed through the thin corridor. Its thick, spiked tail slapped against the walls and I flinched back, avoiding being crushed by a hunk of construction. An extra set of legs powered it around a corner, breaking a chunk off as it disappeared with an angry sound.

_Oh my god oh my god what are we going to do? It's huge!_

It's strange calls petered out as it ran after my escort. The familiar screeches of the others zipped past as well, following their leader. I shrank further into the darkness, praying that none of them noticed me.

All my optimism sank away with my escort—if he couldn't handle that monstrosity and its minions, that was the end of it.

I waited ten or fifteen seconds after the noises died, then let go of my knees and stood. Part of me wanted to follow after the humanoid, but the other part didn't want to go against his orders. He wanted me to stay, so I knew he'd come back for me at some point. If he did, the last thing I wanted to do was go gallivanting around the ship and make it hard for him to find me.

Unless he was dead. Then I'd be stuck in the room forever, waiting for him to return when he never would. At some point I'd just have to leave.

Or maybe waiting was a good thing. If I could stay in this room undiscovered, then at some point the military would show up and rescue me. The only thing wrong with that was I was in their egg storage room. . .so eventually the serpents would show up.

Either that or the eggs would hatch and I'd have to fend off the facehuggers again. If I wanted to wait, I'd have to destroy the eggs and make sure I had less issues.

After all, I'd always been told to stay put if I was lost.

A thought occurred to me and I pulled out my cell phone to check the reception. I had little hope that it would work, and wasn't disappointed when I didn't have a signal. It still burned me up inside with irritation, but I was able to move past it.

With the stupid chunk of scrap metal in hand, I set about breaking the eggs. I was careful not to disturb the unborn facehuggers, as the goo inside the egg didn't seem to be acidic. My mistake in the first egg chamber had been stomping the creatures inside the eggs to mush: they were the ones filled with corrosive blood.

There were a few more than a dozen eggs in the small room, stacked neatly next to one another. I tipped them all over one by one, stepping on them until they ruptured.

It was a mindless enough task, leaving me to think about how many monsters there were. It had to have been three or four dozen at this point. Did my escort plan to kill them all by himself, or did he have other survivors running around and helping?

Even if there were other humanoids, I didn't think they could kill them all before they found their way to town.

Hopefully that would take them some time. My friends and I had hiked for a while, making it maybe two or three miles into the park. Town was already miles away from the park, then however far away the ship was from where they'd caught us.

How fast could these things cover ground?

Halfway through the eggs, the fate of my friends wiggled into my brain. I wondered if they were dead, or if they had managed to make it out like I had. Maybe they were even sneaking around the ship.

I smashed my hands against my forehead and whined through clenched teeth. _Focus on the here. Focus on the now_. Surviving would be impossible if I didn't concentrate. At some point we would come across my friends. If I could stay in this alien's good graces, he might help me rescue them from their predicament.

If they weren't already dead.

"Don't—think—like—that!" I grunted as I pushed over another egg, panting.

Upon popping it, the premature facehugger inside writhed and squealed, skittering around. I gasped and leaped away from it, but it seemed disoriented. After a minute, it flipped over and twitched until it died. The thing was half the size of the ones I'd seen before, and the color of bile instead of ashen. It was the only one that moved, so I wondered how close it had been to hatching.

There were two eggs left. I kept myself busy by muttering nonsense to myself, complaining about how my escort treated me.

Hissing drew me from my distractions.

I'd been caught with my foot planted atop the second to last egg, pressing down on it. Me and the bug-thing stared at each other for a moment, its lips drawn back in a silent snarl and tail twitching behind it. It crouched there, with its hands curled against its chest, hiding its full size.

When it moved toward me, I screeched something akin to a battle cry and stomped on the egg. Its contents spilled over the resin-covered floor in a gush, the premature facehugger flopping before me. I stared at it, then added insult to injury by kicking the parasite toward its brethren. I knew it was a terrible idea as soon as I did it.

It ducked to avoid the dead projectile and swung its head toward me with a blood-curdling scream. I was afraid it would attack right then, but instead it turned to approach the dead facehugger with a warbled whine.

The alien sidled up next to the dead embryo and nosed it. I thought I heard it keen in mourning, and I couldn't dredge up even the smallest amount of sympathy.

Its head swiveled to face me and my body went rigid as stone. Liquid fire burned through my veins as adrenaline kicked in. I held the chunk of metal above my head, ready to bash the monster. Not like it was actually going to save me from the demon.

After all, when I'd used it on the last one, I'd stunned it for a single second. It hadn't been enough time to do _anything_.

"Any second now. . . ," I whispered to myself.

Any second and he'd show up. He'd kill it, and I'd be okay.

I held my ground even as it advanced on me, certain that the big goon would materialize and save me. There was only one for him to kill. If any others showed up, I'd find a way to help. Or hide. There had to be something I could do.

But he didn't, even as the serpent-bug rose to its full height. He didn't, even as it took a step toward me, ready to strike.


	8. Open Sore

**Hello, readers!**

**Lot going on this chapter. Hopefully it all makes sense. If it doesn't, let me know!**

**This chapter has been updated as of 5/7/2016.**

**~Crayola **

* * *

Chapter Seven

Open Sore

I whimpered and looked around, then leaped over to the final egg and put my foot on top of it. "Don't come near me!" I shouted, uncertain if they could understand me but willing to try anyway.

Even if it couldn't comprehend the words, it seemed to appreciate the gesture. The serpent swung its head this way and that, sizing me up, then took a step backwards. I relieved some of the pressure on the egg, but when it advanced I stepped down harder. It retreated and its tail lashed like an angry cat's.

A new sense of power washed through me and I sneered at the beast. "Get back! Get back or I'll destroy it!" Bravado filled me and I leaned forward to make it retreat further.

This time when it took a step back, it tilted its head back and cried. The suddenness made me push down harder than I meant and the egg burst beneath me. The serpent's tail arched high and it continued the cry for several seconds.

_It's calling for help. _

_I'm dead._

More screeches broadcast in response and the trembling in my limbs started anew. With a fearful squawk, I danced away from the broken egg, stumbling on my too-big boots. The egg goo on the ground compromised my traction and I almost fell.

The beast screeched and lunged for me, determined to exact its swift revenge.

"_Any second now_!" I shouted, using all my strength and weight to slam the hunk of metal down atop the creature's head. It jerked and squealed in surprise, backing up.

How stupid to think he was going to go out of his way to help me. We didn't worry about the well-being of the bait on our fishing lines, so why would this alien care about me? I was just a worm on a hook, dangled out for the piranhas to eat.

Maybe he was even dead.

I couldn't rely on anyone. If there was anything I needed to get through my head, it was that. Anderson was dead, Simmons was dead, and now my escort was, too.

When the serpent came back for round two, it was ready. It dodged my swing and tackled me to the ground, forcing air from my lungs. Claws raked down my shoulder blade when I twisted to wrench myself from underneath it, eliciting a strangled wail from me.

Though I doubled my efforts, my arms wouldn't hold up my weight. The creature was heavy on my back, and I couldn't find the leverage to throw it off.

_You can't even rely on yourself. You're not strong enough._

There were other screeches from behind us, but I couldn't concern myself with them. Not when I had enough to deal with on top of me already.

Then I heard a familiar roar and splat of eviscerated enemies.

He wasn't dead! He'd come back; somehow he'd shaken the giant monster from his tail and doubled back for me. I could take some solace in the fact that he was holding off the help that the one attacking me had called.

_My. Fucking. Hero._

But I still had to live through the _one_ trying to maul me—and it was doing a fairly good job of it.

Claws dug into my shoulders and I squirmed, tears stinging and blurring my vision. I needed to roll over to my back, then I could use that hilarious weapon he'd given me for something. Maybe if I could hit the serpent enough with it, I could kill it. Or stun it.

If he could hold off all those others, I _should_ be able to take care of this one. Just the one!

Grunting, I flailed backwards, swinging my arms and throwing everything I had into moving. The serpent snarled, but somehow I was able to flip over. I earned a face full of teeth for my troubles, and pain erupted from my shoulder in a shower of white-hot sparks. I let out an initial shriek of pain, then lost my voice.

I gaped up at it soundlessly until a strangled moan gurgled in my throat. It was like being punched and stabbed at the same time. The pain flared from the wound and radiated all the way down to my fingers and toes. It turned my thoughts to static and left me gasping for breath.

Its second set of jaws retreated into its mouth. Had I not been struggling with such vehemence, it might have given me a hole in my face instead of my shoulder.

The pain sapped all the strength from my body and I went limp the moment its weight was lifted off me. Now free, I curled in on myself and pressed both of my hands against my shoulder, piece of metal forgotten at my side. My breath came in short gasps and my frame shook. Tears slid freely down my cheeks, though I strained to suck them up, tried hard to hide that kind of weakness.

In lieu of tears, I ground my teeth together and screamed internally, the sound coming out as a low groan. I remained in the fetal position as long as I dared to, clutching the injury and telling myself I was going to be fine.

Still some tears slipped through my defenses.

Through my pained whimpers and shudders, I heard the tail end of the scuffle. A single death wail rang out, signaling the fall of the last drone, then all was quiet. I gulped down one more trembling breath, then peeled my eyes open and looked around. My escort was standing over the mangled bodies of the serpents, donning fresh wounds. One of them was a deep gouge running from his left clavicle to his sternum, vivid blood bubbling from within.

"I thought—" I attempted to stand and my head swam, forcing me back to the floor. Blood soaked into my shirt, and my tongue felt thick. "I thought you were dead."

His incredulous snort might have been amusing had I not been in such agony.

Despite the ambient heat of the ship, ice spread across my body and a clammy sweat broke out on my forehead. For some reason everything seemed to be vibrating, but I realized that it was I who was shaking like a leaf. I tried again to stand and dug my fingers into the area around my wound, fingers wet and sticky with my warm blood.

I brushed tears away on my sleeve and sucked in a shuddering breath. The bite throbbed, but I forced myself to ignore it.

When I looked up, my escort was close enough to touch me, staring down. He cocked his head to the side and reached out to grab my wounded shoulder. I flinched away out of instinct, overwhelmed by the need to keep the extent of the damage from him.

What if he decided it was too bad? He would leave me. Discard me without a second thought. Maybe even put me down out of pity.

It was better he didn't know.

"It's nothing. I'll be fine. I can keep going," I rasped, throat raw.

He didn't drop the subject and panic tightened my chest. Grinding my teeth, I struggled to stay on my feet and took a step away from him. I knew from the way my shirt tugged on my skin that I was bleeding _a lot_. Tender bruises blossomed on various parts of my body, creating a stiffness in my limbs. I staggered, but I managed to stay on my feet and I puffed my chest out.

"I'm fine, really." I forced the confidence into my voice. "Let's just keep going."

His head cocked in the other direction, but the angle of his mask let me know he was staring at my wound. I turned my torso to hide, but he lashed out faster than I could react and yanked my hand away from the wound. I squeaked and wiggled in his grasp, but he was firm.

Realizing struggle was futile, I relaxed into his hold and turned my head away, jaw set. "It's fine! I'll be fine. I'll just. . .I'll bandage it up and be good as new."

My escort peeled torn fabric from the raw skin, then pushed me toward the table until the edge hit my knees and I had to sit. He turned away and made to leave. Not wanting to be left alone, I hopped down to follow. Once more he turned to face me, this time growling. I sat back down on the table and he watched me before turning away once more.

It might have been the pain muddling my mind, but I was sure he was leaving me.

"I still got some fight left in me you pompous ass." I jumped off the table and took an unsteady step toward him, licking my dry lips. "I told you I'm perfectly fine!"

He watched me for a second, studying the stern look on my face, and his shoulders shook. At first the action confused me, but then he started to make a strange rumbling sound that turned into a prolonged trill. I realized after a moment that he was laughing.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

At first he didn't answer. Instead he took a few large strides toward me and put a hand on my good shoulder, pushing me down. I resisted until he pushed hard enough it hurt and I complied with a grimace. He made the same "stay" motion from before, then walked away.

This time I didn't argue. I pressed my lips into a thin line and applied pressure to the wound, though pressing on it hurt. It didn't seem to be putting a stop to the bleeding, either, and I was so _cold. _My vision kept coming in and out of focus, but I could make out the horrible wound on my shoulder—the puckered skin with bits of fabric stuck to the edges, blood oozing and soaking the front of my shirt.

Narrowing my eyes, I brushed my fingers over the gory mark. I couldn't tell how deep it was, but moving my arm caused quite a bit of strain. At least I didn't think anything had been broken. It was right in the fleshy part of my left shoulder, below my clavicle. It seemed superficial, but I wasn't a doctor.

Certainly looked horrible, that's for sure.

Staring at the bloody mess was making me woozy so I tried to see what the alien was doing. All the while I had to concentrate to keep myself sitting upright—even that was beginning to seem impossible. He moved about the room, pulling crust and slime from the walls to examine cubbies hidden there. After a minute, he didn't find what he was looking for and growled, dissatisfied.

"What do you need?" I asked, though I wasn't sure what I could do. _Sitting_ was becoming a task to arduous for me to complete.

Ignoring me, he detached something from his back and returned to me. He set the pack on the table and with a push of a button, it opened up like a mechanical tackle box. I leaned in to steal a better look and he allowed it, running his finger over the various tools. Empty syringes, strange clamps, and a lot of missing pieces.

A medpack?

Again he chittered in annoyance, then looked up at my shoulder. He pulled my hand away to look at the wound, then clicked and rattled too fast for me to follow. I was beginning to pick out patterns in his speech, but couldn't yet discern words.

With an angry jab, he closed up the med pack and tossed it aside. He pulled me off the table and motioned for me to follow. So close to him I could see why most of the pack was empty: he had staples holding together some wounds, and a dried substance on others. There were so many injuries he'd had to treat after the crash and various attacks, he'd used all of it up. He'd need to find more if he wanted to treat any more wounds we received.

Sighing, I hopped off the table and my legs immediately buckled. My escort caught me under my bad arm and I sucked in a sharp breath, biting my tongue against a cry of pain. He lifted me up and held me until I found my balance, then let go of my arm. I tucked it against my side, holding my shoulder with a grip tight enough to hurt.

This time I didn't have a quip or complaint. I was too dizzy to speak, and I swayed where I stood. The alien watched me for a second, then stepped aside to let me walk from the room. I glanced at him with half-lidded eyes, then nodded and took a few steps forward.

I didn't make it four paces before I collapsed. The alien's arm was there, catching me across the chest and holding me up.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't even muster the upper body strength to stand up again. I trembled in my escort's embrace, trying to make the floor come into focus, but failing. After a second, where it became apparent to him I couldn't do it on my own, he churred and heaved me up, tossing me over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Any words that come out of my mouth were incoherent at best, and I wasn't sure what I was even trying to tell him. His steps had me bouncing painfully against his adornments and armor, but it beat dragging myself across the ground after him.

Blood dripped down my arm onto the floor as we walked, my shirt's sleeve saturated beyond its threshold. I marveled at how much blood that was—that would expalin why I couldn't walk.

_I'm going to die from blood loss,_ I realized, too out of it to muster anything but apathy.

In fact, I couldn't feel much of anything anymore.

Adrenaline had long since stopped flowing and left behind a hollow weariness in my bones. My eyelids drooped as he carried me, and it was as if my clothes were made of lead. I forced my eyes to open, aware that if I passed out I might not wake up. It was hard, though, when against my chest I could feel his torso vibrate with a low rumble. It made me think of our old cat, Alice, purring.

Couldn't imagine what an alien would be doing _purring_, though.

Eventually, after some twists and turns, he walked into a room and shut the door behind him. In a sort of drunken-like stupor, I ran my fingertips over the door as it slid shut, drawing some sort of pleasure from the action.

My escort removed me from his shoulder, making the floor and walls blur until I was on my back on a new table, staring at the ceiling. The quick action made my head swim and for a moment I thought I was going to hurl, but then the room stabilized.

It was similar to the previous room we'd been in, except the walls were free of resin. The contents of the area were strewn about the floor just like the other room, too. I imagined the only reason the table was still upright was because it might have been bolted to the floor. The crash had toppled various displays and machines to the ground.

Lying down made it even harder to keep my eyes open. I was so exhausted and cold, tired from shaking and still in pain. Now, on top of all that, I couldn't quite catch my breath. All I wanted was to sleep, but I forced myself to stay awake.

_Don't go to sleep. _

I wheezed and panted, trying to pay attention to what he was doing. The small sounds I made brought his attention to me and after examining my symptoms, he tapped away at his wrist computer. He watched me, then went back to righting one of the machines. He tried to turn it on, but it only sparked and fizzled. He snarled and shoved it back onto its side.

My eyelids drooped and I blinked hard, trying to bring my sight back into focus. In the back of my mind, the wound on my shoulder throbbed. I focused on the pain, trying to stay conscious.

And yet, the next thing I knew, the pressure of his hand on my good shoulder was dragging me from my doze. Startled, I thrashed around until he restrained me. Even then I struggled for another moment, growling, until my escort snarled an admonishment.

His familiar sounds stilled my flailing and I blinked up at him with bleary vision. After some more blinking and eye-rubbing, he came into focus.

"What? No—what? I'm fine. I'm fine," I slurred, tongue dry and swollen.

He chuffed and tore my shirt to give him more room to work. I protested in a meek voice, but made no move to stop him.

"What's that thing that's chasing us?" I muttered in a heavy voice.

As expected, he ignored my question and showed me a freaking horse syringe with a clear liquid in the tube. I eyed it, nervous, but nodded. He flexed his fingers and held me down before jabbing the wicked needle into the center of the wound.

I yelped and squirmed, but it was all done in a matter of seconds. Whatever he injected me with, I could feel it sledging through my veins, hot and uncomfortable. I winced and fidgeted, clutching at my chest. Soon enough, though, the pain in my shoulder ebbed. However the dizziness tripled, and I curled into the fetal position. He watched me and grumbled to himself for a moment, looking at the syringe. It was missing only an eight of its contents.

For a moment I tried to ask him what he gave me, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was absolute gibberish. After the second attempt I stopped speaking.

He looked at me, then made a strange noise I couldn't describe—a click, a rumble, a word I couldn't discern. The world twisted and melted in front of my eyes and I clenched them shut. I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, fighting back the urge to throw up.

_That_ was a losing battle.

Somehow I had the presence of mind to turn and lean over the back of the table before retching. All I managed was a bout of dry-heaving, bile caught in the back of my throat. Whimpering, I didn't move from that position until Wolf made me. He flipped me over onto my back with a quiet click, his ministrations gentle for once.

Whatever he'd given me made everything numb. I wanted to lift my hand to wipe my mouth, but couldn't lift it more than a few centimeters. There was a light pressure as my escort stapled the wound shut, but that was all.

When he finished, he left me to recover on the table and went about dressing his own wounds. I kept my eyes shut to keep from watching the room spiral in upon itself. My breathing came a little easier, and something high up in the ceiling was hissing. If I wasn't so sure I was safe with my escort, the sound would have freaked me out.

But he was present. If there was danger, he would know before I did.

For the time being, I could relax and focus on recuperating.

I listened to the sounds of my escort's rummaging and repressed the nausea caused by the drugs. As the minutes ticked down, the muck in my bloodstream filtered out. The pain was gone, and I thought maybe my body was adjusting to the foreign medicine.

He hadn't even given me that much, and though the wound didn't hurt I could feel the beginnings of a headache pounding at my skull. At least the world had stopped spinning.

Slow and deliberate, I sat up and brushed my fingers over the strange sutures. They were big, metal, and heavy—not made for my delicate human flesh. I shouldn't complain, though. Not when they were working for their intended purpose.

It was more than I'd expected, too. I'd figured any wounds I sustained I'd have to live with until I made it out of the ship, not that he'd play nurse.

_Don't look a gift horse in the mouth._

Blinking the last of drug-induced fuzz from my vision, I looked around for my escort. I found him not far, watching me curiously. I rubbed my eyes and slid from the table. Somehow I managed to stand without collapsing and I took a steadying breath.

When I was sure I would be able to form actual words, I spoke.

"Thank you. For that." I enunciated each syllable with careful precision, squaring my shoulders and trying to meet him eye to eye. It was hard when he was three heads taller than me.

He gave me a deep nod and turned toward the door. I caught a glimpse of the giant gash on his chest from the fight—it had its own sutures and had stopped bleeding. With his back turned, I shed my bloody and torn shirt, replaced it with my jacket and zipped it up.

Heat be damned. I wasn't running around topless and my shirt was nothing more than rags. I discarded it and followed after him.

Before leaving he stood by the closed door, head turned while he listened. After a moment he slid it open and stepped outside. I poked my head around the doorway before creeping after him. Down the hallway the creatures were still squealing and cackling. Not from the way we came, though.

I remembered the vague feeling of quakes, but had thought it was my trembling. In my foggy state, I hadn't realized the aliens had passed us.

"What is it?" I asked, squinting into the darkness. "It's different from the others."

He glanced at me and I didn't shy away. I grimaced and shook my head. "Never mind. I don't know why I ask. It's not like you can answer my questions."

I'd have to limit them to "yes" or "no" answers.

The alien studied me for a moment, then growled and led me down the path in silence. I tried to think of a way to ask and he could answer in a simple manner, but I felt it was necessary if I wanted to figure out how these things worked.

"Is it the same type of creature?" I asked at last, to make sure. When he answered in the positive, it left me wondering why it was different.

Hosts. The things needed a host to breed.

"Was it born from something not human?" I kept my voice quiet. I didn't know how far ahead the creature was, and I didn't want to find out.

Yes, he signaled. Some other alien creature sowed that beast.

"Was. . . ." I stumbled for the right wording, just like I was stumbling on my steps, still wobbly from loss of blood. "Did you bring it here for some reason?"

A grunt in the negative.

"On accident?"

He hissed in the affirmative.

I thought for a moment, then inquired, "Did it cause the ship to crash?"

His steps paused and he grumbled, then nodded and continued onward. It was enough to sate my curiosity: the weird creature was a stowaway from another planet. It was still the same species, but they took on traits from their hosts.

But what trait did they take from humans? They stood upright, but was that it? I supposed if I wanted to figure it out I'd have to get a good look at them. I didn't really want to do that.

We walked for another few minutes and I realized how empty I felt, like I was forgetting something. I racked my brain trying to figure out what it was; my shirt? No, I'd left that behind on purpose. My phone? No, that was still in my back pocket. I checked it for reception again, but there was still nothing. A few more cracks.

Another forty minutes had passed since the last time I'd checked the time.

At least if the armed forces didn't call in at some point, reinforcements would arrive. Maybe just a small team of people to figure out what was going on before they called the rest of the military. Still, it was something to look forward to.

Finally, after staring at the gauntlet on my escort's arm, trying to figure out where the blades went, I realized what I was missing.

A weapon. I had left behind my chunk of metal.

Fat lot of good it did me, anyway.

"Wait," I muttered, matching his strides to walk next to him. "Let me have a weapon. And not another piece of junk this time!"

He pretended not to hear me and turned down a fork in the road. The screeches receded further into the ship, as did the roars. Whatever was patrolling the halls, we had tricked it into wandering away from us. How long until it circled back, though, I wasn't sure.

The place was enormous. Surely we had plenty of time.

I watched him with sharp eyes, noting the way his head inclined at every noise. The grumbling that came from his chest was almost like he was muttering to himself. I didn't know what it meant, but it made him seem less alien somehow.

Maybe not quite _human_, but at least more of a _person_ than a murderous alien of death and destruction.

After a moment he stopped without warning and I almost bumped into him, but halted just in time. He turned toward the wall and pulled down a section of the crust, revealing a control pad. He dragged the claw of his index finger down it, activating the pad, then pressed some keys.

The door slid open with a hiss and I jumped.

Assuming this was another hunt for some survivors, I made no move to enter. The few times I had before, he'd stopped me. This time, however, he motioned for me to step inside and stood out of the way so I could enter first.

Initially I thought it was some sort of trick so I stood at the threshold, staring in. He chittered in a hushed tone and shoved me inside, making me stumble.

I spluttered some choice profanities at him and straightened up, looking around the room. It was much darker than out in the hall, so it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. When they did, all the color drained from my face. I made to backpedal from the room, but he herded me inside with his bulk and closed the door behind him.

Standing outside was dangerous. If the pest aliens came by while he was in the room doing his business, I'd be a goner and could bring more than just the drones on us. He seemed able to handle them no problem, but the big thing running around had him a little jittery.

Regardless, I wasn't very keen on being _inside_ the room, either.

Lining the wall was dozens of strange, alien skulls. Some were as big as me, some were animal sized, a few were similar to the serpents running around and. . . I looked away from the familiar skulls, unwilling to acknowledge them.

It wasn't hard to figure out what they were there for: trophies.

But it wasn't the trophy skulls that had me clamoring for the exit. My grandpa had an elk head mounted on his wall, one that had almost broken a record. I wasn't a stranger to trophies.

No, it was the humanoid slumped over in the corner, impassive gray mask staring straight at me.


	9. Victim

**Hello, readers!**

**Bit of an expositional chapter, I guess. Get to see more of the crash and what it all meant for the other yautja. . .um idk. This chapter I'm not really sure on, so any feedback is really appreciated! I'd gladly go back and edit if someone had some insight (whether they think it's good or needs tweaking.)**

**This chapter has been updated as of 5/7/2016.**

**~Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Eight

Victim

I cowered against the wall next to the door, holding my hands against my chest, until I realized the new alien wasn't awake. Though his mask was facing me, he wasn't moving from his position on the floor. He might not have even been alive. Three ragged claw marks were scored across his chest, raw and bloody and _deep_. No matter how sturdy his species seemed, there was no way he would have survived having his chest cleaved like that.

My escort strode up to the fallen humanoid, kneeled in front of him, and put a hand to the helm before lowering his head in respect. I left him to give his buddy his. . .last rites or whatever and examined the walls. I stepped up to the perfectly bleached and polished trophies, examining each one.

The lights hovering over them gave off waves of heat and I rolled up the sleeves of my jacket. I unzipped it far enough that my bra was still hidden, though I doubted this alien cared. It wasn't so much for modesty reasons anymore as it was for protection. I had no shirt, so I needed something to protect my delicate human skin.

"You. . .killed all these?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

All the skulls alone pieced some of the puzzle together. They enjoyed hunting as a pastime, so I could assume the one that caused the crash had been part of a prior hunt. It stowed away, made the ship crash, then started infecting anyone it came in contact with. Now it was going around the ship, searching for any who had escaped.

Grandpa had hunted many deer and elk, but had only one trophy head. It had been two inches away from a record buck, so I assumed all the skulls present were the same. Trophy creatures that had put up some sort of fight or were a mark of rank.

He hadn't taken any of the ones he'd killed so far as trophies. Were they unworthy, or was he not worried about keeping winners, since the ship had crashed?

I turned toward him again when I received no answer and asked again. "Did you kill these?"

His head turned toward me and he grunted that same sound, most likely the word for "no" or whatever translated closest. He instead motioned toward a single wall against the far back, drawing my attention toward it. The room was the size of one of my classrooms at school, and each wall had its own section of trophies.

Sparing a final glance over my shoulder, I walked to the wall he pointed to. There were only a few, most likely his crowning achievements. Some were the elongated skulls of the serpents—all in varying designs.

The two biggest ones were in the center. They were roughly the same size he was, with the skulls fanning out like a crowned crest. I almost assumed they were a different species, but when I moved closer I saw the second set of jaws nestled inside. There were some other creatures present, but it seemed the serpents were prominent. The two center pieces looked strong and important, but it might have been a specific host trait.

"So these are all yours," I muttered. He was standing now, replacing several dislodged trophies to the wall. Not all of them had made it through the crash. Most had been preserved well enough to keep from shattering, but others weren't so lucky, and I carefully stepped over a few shards of bone.

My escort chittered in response, but I couldn't understand. He and made his way toward me, stopping to pick up a few pieces that had fallen.

"Do you have more somewhere else, or is this it?" I faced the huge cranium and reached out to run my fingers down its high crest, but a scaled hand grabbed my wrist. I inhaled a sharp breath and stumbled when he pulled me back, barking out an admonishment.

I pulled my hand out of his grasp and recoiled from him, rubbing the joint where he'd squeezed too hard. "Ow! I'm sorry! You were touching _those_ ones, I didn't think—"

Growling, he thumped me upside the head. I grunted and shot him a sour look, but backed away. "God damn, sorry. The human's not allowed to touch. . .fucking got it," I mumbled, glowering at his back. He hadn't hit me hard, but my head was still throbbing as a side-effect of the alien painkiller.

He leaned down to pick up another skull from the floor and examined a coin-sized chip with an irritated trill and disappointed head dip.

"So," I started, "are you like, a high rank?"

It seemed like each member on the ship had their own section where they showcased their best kills. A select few had the same large serpent skull, but only my escort had two. One had three, and several dozen other skulls.

My escort set aside his now-fixed skull (when had he done that?) and gave himself a shake. I wasn't sure how to take it, so I dropped the question altogether. Maybe he was being humble.

Or maybe he was bragging in his own way.

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to his wall and looked at some of the other skulls. Up until then I could ignore the heads I wanted to, but my eyes finally came to rest on the morbid familiarity of the bones lining the bottom of his showcase.

Human skulls. In a neat little row. He didn't have many, but there they were.

Sand lined my throat, making it difficult for me to swallow the lump that formed. I turned away from the wall and indicated toward the human skulls. "You hunt humans for trophies, too?" My voice was low, and I hoped he had heard me.

At first he didn't acknowledge my question. When I was about to ask it again, he turned toward me and nodded once. My heart stuttered and I looked away from him, bent over at the waist.

They killed humans for sport.

I was human.

We were silent for several heartbeats while he let that sink in. I forced myself to remember that he wasn't trophy hunting right now. If he had been, he would have killed me when first we met.

No, probably not. I was hardly worth anything, young and weak.

But if he hunted humans, why was he helping me? He shouldn't care if I lived or died. I couldn't even claim he was using me; I hadn't done a single bait-like thing since he'd agreed I could follow him. The giant alien might have interrupted us, but he had hidden me when he could have strung me out.

Then he'd come back and saved me! Doctored my wounds, and had let me inside this room instead of making me stand outside and look tasty.

It didn't make any fucking sense. Meat shield, maybe? No, that wasn't it either.

My lips pressed into a thin line. I couldn't make a break for it. I wouldn't make it far, and I didn't see a need to. If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it already back when he first met me in the egg room. He'd all but pulled the trigger then, but stopped for some reason. There was only one hope should he turn his murderous gaze on me—convince him to give me a weapon. At least then I'd be able to defend myself for, oh say, three seconds before he cut me down.

Through the thick door, a distance roar caught our attention; deep and unlike the noises the _other_ aliens made. My escort turned his head an inch, growled, then took a few steps toward me. I retreated in the opposite direction and put my hands up as meek protection, now paranoid he was going to kill me at any second. However, he stopped my attempted flight before I could bump into his precious trophies.

His hand gripped my good shoulder and he tugged me toward the door, a deep churr of amusement at my reaction. I was still tense in his grip, but I let him drag me through the now-opened door and toward the noises.

"Is it a survivor?" I asked, trying to pull my arm free. His grip tightened and I winced. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

He made a noncommittal grunt and steered me down another hallway. The roars grew louder until the echoing crackle of the giant alien drowned them out. My escort yanked me faster down the hallway, coming close to pulling my shoulder from its socket a few times.

"Hey," I snarled, "be careful! Let me go, I can keep up on my own."

His hand retracted and I pulled my arm into my chest, cradling it there, glowering. Running was easier with my arm free and I trotted after him like a good puppy.

Each pulse of noise ricocheting against the walls made my hairs stand on end. The back of my mind prickled with a sudden realization: the sound was familiar. I'd heard it somewhere before. Though the noise was a demonic rendering, it was the exact same thing. The same echoing crackles that dolphins made.

Echolocation.

It could see everything. That was how it was tracking us. I couldn't speak for the little ones—not when they were so quiet until they were on top of you. This large monster, the Echo, hunted its prey via sound. Like a bat.

A trait from its host, no doubt.

"Give me a weapon. I can help," I insisted between breaths.

He ignored me and kept running, growling to himself. The way he growled, his hunting posture and strange sense of loyalty to finding survivors. . . . He was like a wolf, searching for his pack. A lone wolf, trying to survive.

Wolf.

I opened my mouth to make the demand again, but a fierce cry from above cut me off. I stopped short and turned my head in time to see one of the facehuggers leap off the ceiling toward me.

Eyes wide, I leaned back a ways and lifted my hands to guard my face. Since when did these assholes wander around _on their own_? I'd assumed they stayed put until a drone brought them a host, but apparently fucking not! Apparently they went _looking_ for hosts if there weren't any presented.

Fucking perfect.

A split second before impact, my escort—Wolf—shoved me forward. I lost my balance and tumbled to the ground, but somehow managed to turn the landing into a roll. I scrambled to my feet, hands up and ready to defend myself. My stance was wide and ready, concern knotting my chest. Would he be alright?

The facehugger had landed on his mask and was skittered for purchase, its tail lashing. I didn't have time for relief, though. It let out a surprised and confused squeal, unable to find an orifice to invade, then leaped off Wolf. Hitting the ground running, it came right for me.

It didn't make it far before Wolf stabbed it with his spear, pinning it to the spot. The thing scrabbled around, squeaking and hissing, then finally fell still.

I felt as if my heart was going to explode straight out of my chest. I remained in my half-crouched position, staring at the dead facehugger. If Wolf hadn't been so vigilant, or a millisecond too slow, I would have gotten a mouthful of _that_.

Would he have been able to get it off me? Or would he have cut his losses and killed me?

None of that mattered. It didn't happen. I didn't need to dwell on it.

Knees shaking, I stood straighter and forced my arms to my sides. They ached to hold me, to keep me together, but I had to prove to myself that I could do it on my own. I didn't need comfort from anyone. I had a strong mind. I _had_ to have a strong mind.

"Now can I have a weapon?" I asked, voice unsteady. The Echo had fallen silent ahead of us, as had the potential survivor. Either we had been too late or the other humanoid had chased it off.

Oh how I wanted it to believe the latter, but my heart said otherwise.

Wolf's low rumble worried me, and I waited for him to decide. I watched him as he considered me, then turned to lead me onward. I repressed a scream of rage and stomped after him, my hands balled to fists at my side.

Were he a few inches smaller and a little less muscular, I might have punched him.

Many times.

Would it really be such a bad thing, giving me a weapon? I didn't know what I could do to prove he could trust me with one. The last thing I wanted to do was kill him, and I was certain I couldn't even if I _did_ want to.

The Echo was long gone by the time we reached the site of battle. We were met with complete disarray; the room was the biggest I'd been in so far, larger than our school's gym room by a margin. Broken controls and consoles were everywhere, sparking and crackling. Lights blinked in various places, and the walls were actually windows, covered in dirt. Inches, maybe feet of rock and rubble. It had to have been where they did the driving—the bridge?

Among the broken machines were bodies. More than half a dozen of them, all humanoids like Wolf, tossed about like ragdolls or crushed beneath heavy machinery. Any that had survived direct impact into the side of the mountain wouldn't have lived through the Echo's rampage.

Especially not since Wolf had to save me.

If I hadn't been with him, he might have made it. He might have been able to fight alongside the survivor. I put a hand to my mouth and took a step back, guilt-ridden.

"I—I'm sorry," I muttered, shaking my head.

We weren't alone in the room. Several serpents remained, picking their way over the walls and bodies. When they noticed us, they screeched in greeting. Wolf wasn't in the mood for their bullshit, and for the first time since we'd first met, those three red target dots took aim.

His cannon fired with a muffled sound, one for each serpent. All of them burst apart in a spray of acid blood, quickly filling the room with the stench of burning flesh and metal.

In the end, though, he didn't have enough shots to cover all of them, and at least one slipped out unharmed. With it spent, he removed it from the mount on his shoulder, discarded it, and made his way toward the carnage wrought by the Echo. I almost followed him, but felt he needed to deal with the death of his comrades alone.

And now I knew why he hadn't shot me in that room. He hadn't seen the need to waste a perfectly good round of ammo on some pitiful human girl. Not that I was complaining.

Not all of the humanoids on the bridge were wearing masks. I couldn't make out their faces from where I was standing, but what I could make out indicated that though their physiology was similar to that of a human, their heads were definitely not. Sloping forehead, horn-like ridges, large brow. It resembled their masks somewhat.

Movement near the bow—maybe, I hadn't had time to brush up on my ship terminology before being _kidnapped by space monsters_—caught our attention. Wolf slid into a defensive posture, but then relaxed and jogged over to the half-alive humanoid.

First I thought about joining him to see if I could help, but I was afraid I'd only upset both of them. Still, I felt so confused and helpless.

I shimmied along the wall until I was clear of the doorway. My first instinct was to search for more enemies, though Wolf seemed unconcerned. There was a second way out of the bridge: the route the Echo had taken to search for more victims. I watched it, hoping it didn't return. If I wasn't doing anything, I might as well play lookout while he tried to save his friend.

_My fault_. He'd stopped to save me. If I wasn't with him. . .or maybe I'd kept him alive. Though that was some wishful thinking. I'd just condemned his friends. The guilt gnawed at my insides when I thought about the sacrifice.

Somehow I had to prove to him that I was worth it.

Why hadn't the Echo dragged any victims off for hosts? It had murdered them instead, like it wasn't trying to bring back more hosts for the parasites.

Like it was out for blood.

Wolf spent some time with the last living humanoid, but he didn't have the means to keep him alive. After a while he put his hand over his mask and bowed his head before standing to pick through the others. I remained where I was, content to leave this moment of mourning to him. If his kind mourned their dead. It wasn't like I would know how to offer him comfort if he needed it. It reminded me that my friends were in the ship somewhere, waiting for me.

Two egg chambers had turned up nothing, though. The ship was gigantic, so I didn't know what hope I had of finding them. We were at the front of the ship now, so I figured the chamber I'd been found had been in the middle, so now we'd have to double back the way we'd come if we wanted to keep up the search.

He finished his sweep of the bridge and came back with a new shoulder-mounted cannon and holding a wicked blade. I balked at his approach, watching his posture to see if he'd try to use it on me, ready to turn tail and flee. As he neared, he twisted the grip and held it out to me hilt-first. His shoulders shook with that amused rumbling in his chest; my wariness was a great source of amusement for him. I stared at the weapon for a moment, my face pale.

I was more likely to hurt myself with it than I was anything else.

But, it was what I'd wanted. It was good that it was dangerous-looking. Easy peasy: point the business end of the sword at the enemies.

The blade had a sharp, serrated edge that curved toward the tip. Its grip was the bone fragment of some alien creature, wrapped in a leather-like material. He chittered an encouragement and held it closer to me. I swallowed hard and took it by the hilt, surprised at how light it actually was. I'd overcompensated for the weight, thinking it'd be heavy, but it was the same as my dad's baseball bats.

"Th-thank you," I said, surprised he handed it over without much fuss.

He'd put it off for so long, maybe because he hadn't had one to spare. Which body had he taken it off? Would they be okay with a human using it? Though I supposed since they were dead it didn't matter. I gave it a few practice swings and he made an irritated sound, then pushed me forward, skirting around the edge of the bridge toward the other exit.

"Are we going after that thing?" I asked.

His low hiss told me yes.

"Is it killing for food?" I glanced over my shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of his dead comrades, but he moved into my view before pushing me down the hall. I figured the answer would be a no, since the bodies seemed to be intact. For the most part.

I grunted and shoved him back when he was too rough with me, earning a swift palm-heel-strike to my shoulder blade.

"Ow, hey!"

Now I was in more of a bad mood than I had been, but I still had questions. "Is it killing because you guys are a threat?"

Again he hissed an affirmative.

We forged onward, following after the faint sounds of the Echo. We were always so far behind it, and Wolf pressed us faster and faster until we were a pace slower than sprinting. I didn't know if we'd be able to kill the Echo with just the two of us, but Wolf seemed confident—or maybe foolhardy, eager to kill the thing that was running around murdering his friends. But if he and the others hunted nests full of these things, that meant he could kill at least one on his own, right?

There was something wrong, though—besides how awkward it was to run in the boots I was wearing. It started as a tickle in the back of my throat, the occasional cough. Then, as we moved through the other side of the ship back toward the center, it became a tightness in my chest that made running even more difficult.

"Wait. Wait I can't. . . . I can't breathe," I gasped, reaching out with my free hand toward his back. I had been falling behind at a steady pace, my chest tight and searing. It wasn't from sprinting, that I knew. Not after years and years of conditioning.

He stopped, rattling in displeasure, but came back for me nonetheless.

_You're slowing him down. _

With my hands atop my head to open my airways, I drew in breath after breath, ignoring the nagging voice in my head. Instead of refreshing oxygen, I breathed in a lungful of burning air. I wheezed with surprise and spluttered into a coughing fit, doubling over. My chest felt as if it was full of fire, and tears welled at the corners of my eyes. I should have been fine, I should have been able to run much longer but—

The air, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't run.

Wolf watched me for a second, then opened up his wrist com and punched in a command. He clapped me over the back and I stumbled to keep from falling from on my face.

Vents on the ceiling hissed and cool air filtered into the hallway. I took several deep breaths until the stitch in my side ebbed and I could finally fill my lungs. The fire in my chest guttered but didn't extinguish. I'd been able to ignore it before, though. It had been a minor convenience up until now, but maybe the air was more pure, the hull not as compromised as it had been.

Maybe it was just because I hadn't been running before, hadn't been breathing as hard.

"I'm. . .I'm okay," I insisted. I straightened and swallowed the saliva that had pooled in my mouth. "I can. . .usually run longer than that but. . . . I couldn't breathe. Your air?"

With a great sigh, he nodded.

"Will you be okay with the air I can breathe?" I asked, uncertain why it concerned me.

He tapped his mask and turned his head to show the wires attached to it. I made an "o" shape with my mouth and nodded: his mask would filter the air for him. _I _had no such device. And neither did my friends. Were they suffocating somewhere, locked in a room?

But I couldn't think about that. I had to believe that I'd be able to find them at some point, and they'd be okay. To distract myself while I recovered, I asked him more questions.

"Is that big one laying the eggs?"

No, he grunted. Before I could ask, he brought up his computer again and swiped another command. A second later, he was projecting a hologram for me. I was hit with a brief wave of heat as the cross-section of one of the serpents materialized.

It was not unlike the others wandering around all over the place. The picture made it hard to judge size, but it appeared longer, taller. This alien was more insect-like than the others with muscular back legs and more than one set of arms. Instead of the smooth, elongated heads of the others, it sported a huge crest. Like a triceratops.

After a moment I realized I'd seen it somewhere before.

"This. . . ," I tried to gather my thoughts before continuing. "This is the thing you have on the wall back in the room?"

Wolf nodded and pressed another button and a new hologram flickered to life. It was of the same giant beast, but instead it was hunched over as if in sleep; behind it a huge sack spat out eggs one at a time. The hologram shimmered and revealed a large hologram of the ova, then he turned it off.

If the egg sack was any indication, this creature was so much bigger than the serpents. At least that explained where all the eggs were coming from. They didn't reproduce or lay eggs themselves, but relied on that alien. They were the warriors, and this thing was their queen. Termites, ants, bees. . . . They all did the same thing.

My eyes widened and I echoed my thoughts to Wolf. "A queen? Is this a giant hive?" I coughed once, dispelling the last of the strange air I'd been breathing earlier. I took a few more deep breaths of the cool, refreshing oxygen-rich breeze and relief flowed through me.

Nodding, he let his fist fall and the hologram disappeared.

A queen. He and some others had their skulls as the centerpiece to their showcases. The queen would be the toughest and biggest of the entire hive, a last line of defense. Killing one of those wouldn't be an easy feat. . . . So _they_ were the sign of rank and prestige.

Wolf had two of them and I wondered what rank that made him.

But if the queen laid the eggs, then how did the Echo start the gravy train? If it didn't lay eggs, then it must have found some way to repopulate. I couldn't fathom how, and yes or no questions wasn't going to suffice. It would just have to be a mystery.

His gaze didn't leave me for a moment, and then he motioned for me to keep going.

"Yes, sorry. I'm good now, thank you." I mocked a salute and followed him onward. The Echo had pulled ahead of us again, and its bellowing wail vibrated the air. Another, similar cry met that one, joined by the screeches of the drones.

They were communicating, but I couldn't fathom what about.

Listening carefully, I tried to figure out where they were and how far. I wasn't mentally prepared to fight something so huge; I'd need time to find my center.

The weapon he'd given me was foreign and daunting, and I didn't know how to use it right. The grip was even a bit uncomfortable and irregular-shaped, but my hand was starting to acclimate to it. The question still remained about whether or not I'd be able to kill anything with it.

But how hard could it be? Swing and slice and there you go. Easy. If I could swing a bat, I could swing a sword. It wasn't like I'd be jousting with some seasoned fencer. They'd be mindless beasts.

Ripe for the chopping.

As I tried to pick up the noises of the monster, there was something else on the draft, wafting through the halls toward us. A familiar sound, full of fear. . . . A sound that tightened my chest and threatened to bring tears to my eyes.

I'd heard it in the woods, and it echoed in the recesses of my mind still. A sound that I'd likely hear when all this was over, if I lived.

One that would haunt me forever.

Wolf's faltering steps told me he recognized the sound, too. He hadn't quite stopped yet, but was slowing down in front of me.

I stopped moving, head down and ears straining.

I stopped breathing, trying to limit other idle sounds.

On baited breath I waited. Wolf slowed to a stop ahead of me but I was only vaguely aware of him and his ambient clicking. When I heard it again, my chest swelled and I dared to inhale. The sound meant so many bad things, but at that moment, it also meant hope. Wolf was looking at me, head tilted, but I paid him no mind.

A human scream.

Female.

Before I could overthink it, my legs were carrying me forward. I shot past Wolf and he trilled after me, but I ignored him. My body moved of its own accord, driven forward by the familiarity of the cry. By all the things it promised and all the things it threatened.

I came to a stop at an intersecting hallway, head turned to listen. The Echo was down one way and the human was screaming in an another.

Easy choice.

Wolf growled near me, but I was off and running again. Adrenaline had gifted me a second wind.

Someone was alive, and as I made my way closer to the source of the screams for help, I came to realize that it was more than just a scream, more than a cry for help.

That voice, calling for someone. . . . I knew it. I knew it so well it _hurt_.

It tugged at my heart, planting seeds of both hope and panic in my brain. I ignored the vestiges of breathlessness and pushed myself into a full sprint, desperate to reach the voice and the second chance of life it meant for them.

And my _own_ second chance.

To make things right, to make up for what I'd done in the woods. I just had to _hurry_.

_Jess! Jess I'm coming!_


	10. Asleep or Dead

**Hello, readers!**

**Man this is a rollercoaster for me to write. . .can't imagine what it's like to read it. Let me know!**

**This chapter has been updated as of 5/7/2016.**

**~Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Nine

Asleep or Dead

I should have come for her right away. It should have been the most important thing in my mind. Anderson had told me to worry only about myself, but how was that right? She was my best friend! I never should have listened to him. I should have listened to my gut.

She was alive. I could still save her. Maybe all of them, even. I could make everything right again. If I saved them now, they would forgive me. I could forgive myself.

All I had to do was make it to whatever room she was in—they were in.

If she was there, the others had to be, right?

_Right turn—straight ahead—follow the screaming._

My breath came in short gasps and I fought hard to run as fast as I could. Wolf rumbled behind me, growling warnings and commands, but I ignored him. There was a small window of opportunity, and I wasn't going to let him stop me.

I wasn't going to be too late. I wasn't going to let him hold me up.

_Just like you held him up._

The urge to call out to them was strong. The words festered in the back of my throat, but I bit them back. If I wanted them to survive, I had to be silent. I couldn't alert the enemies that I was coming. They were accustomed to the desperate cries of the captured and would ignore them.

What they would be suspicious of was someone calling back, someone coming to help.

As much as I wanted to, I had to wait until I was close.

Finally I made it. I slid on some still-wet slime and hit the ground on my hands in a push-up form. The room was a couple yards away and I could hear more than one voice besides Jess'. Wolf chittered quietly behind me, disgruntled and miffed, but I hopped up and headed toward the door.

_There they are! I found them!_

"Someone, anyone!"

"No one's coming, Jess." If my eyes could open any wider, they would have. Michelle.

A third, unfamiliar voice cut in. "I can't think if you keep screaming! Just remain calm. I'll figure something out."

It didn't matter that they were with someone new. They were all there. Or at least my two best friends. They were there. I scrambled into the egg room where they were being held, using the wall to keep myself up. My legs were weak with relief and fatigue. I darted my gaze frantically around the room, my chest heaving to pull in oxygen.

Then I spotted them, them all pinned against the far wall. Several shapes, even. I exhaled a plaintive whine and stumbled toward them.

"Jess? Michelle?" I called intoto the darkness, keeping my voice low enough to be heard only by them. The only thing that could ruin the moment was the arrival of unwanted drones coming to investigate strange voices.

Their heads lifted and looked over to me. At first they were wild and frightened, but when they realized who it was, they relaxed. The atmosphere electrified with excitement; theirs and mine.

"Where the hell did you come from?" the unfamiliar voice demanded.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"Nichole! Nichole it's you! Of fuck, please, oh god, you have to get us down!" Michelle pleaded.

"You're alive! Oh Nichole I was so worried!" Jess wailed.

Worried. They were worried. My heart soared and I fumbled through the darkness, taking great care to ignore the eggs in the room. I didn't want to know if they were empty or not. I didn't want to know what the chances were.

Anything could be a trick of the light, my mind trying to make me believe something that wasn't. I didn't want it to fabricate my worst nightmares and drain the hope I clung to so desperately.

They didn't hate me. They were glad to see me, even after I'd left them.

What if they hated me later?

Whatever, I could handle that. I could handle them hating me if it meant they were alive _now_. I'd have a lifetime to make it up to them so long as they survived.

Jess strained against the crust pinning her to the wall as I approached. I glanced around and took stock of all the people in the room. Michelle, Jake, Victor, Tyler, a cop, and a few other classmates I couldn't recall. All those who were picked off by the aliens. None of the ones that had been with me when I was captured where there.

Had they made it out? Had I been the last? Or were they still in the ship somewhere, scared and alone—or dead?

"Are you alright?" I asked, using my free hand to tug at the crust with violent jerks.

She shook her head. Her face shone with fresh tears leaving dirty streaks under her eyes, like she'd been crying for a while. "No! No I'm not! Please you gotta get me down, we have to leave!"

"How did you get out?" Michelle asked. Next to her, Jake was beginning to stir.

"It's a long story," I sighed, glancing up.

Michelle leaned forward eagerly. "But you _can_ get us out?"

I nodded and pulled back to raise the weapon Wolf had loaned me. "I will but you guys have to be _quiet_, ok? You think you can do that? If those things come to see what's going on and find me here it'll be bad."

Jess nodded and pursed her lips shut. Michelle nodded but didn't remain quiet long. She asked, "Where'd you get that?"

"Nichole? Jess?" Jake interrupted. I switched my attention to him and the others on the wall. There was maybe a total of four people actually awake—Tyler and Victor were not among them.

"_Shh_! You guys have to be _quiet_, okay? I'll get you all down but you have to be _quiet_!" I took a few quick steps across the room, examining everyone. I hadn't even gotten two chops into freeing Jess yet. Tyler and Victor were already dead with gaping holes, as were most of the others. I wouldn't be able to save them all.

"Hey, kid, how'd you get out?" the police officer demanded again. I barely heard him.

Tears threatened to spill and I took a few deep breaths and pushed them away. I had to focus on Jess and Michelle and the ones that were alive. I could help them out, and everything would be fine. Jess and Michelle were priority. I had to make it up to them.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"Kid!"

I sniffed and whirled around. "A soldier helped me escape! I've been wandering around for ages and I finally found you guys. Now please, I can get you all down but _just shut up_!" I hissed, watching the doorway for a few seconds. There was no screeching, no sounds of drones on their way.

There was also no Wolf. I doubted that I'd been able to run faster than him, so either he was waiting outside or was invisible and watching nearby.

As Simmons had before, I carefully picked over the people's corpses, careful not to touch any gore and trying my hardest to ignore the feeling of bile rising in my throat. They wouldn't have dog tags, so I grabbed wallets and phones or jewelry and shoved them in all my pockets.

Jake was silent for a moment but then asked in a whisper, "They're all dead, aren't they?"

Brushing away stray tears, and turning away from the bodies, I nodded. "Yeah."

Jess choked out a sob and Michelle fought back her own tears. Jake stared at the ground below him, his eyes wide and lips parted. I closed mine and took a deep breath.

"But you guys are okay," I said.

"Alright so that's how you got out." I turned to look at the strung-up cop. He jerked his head toward the weapon I was still holding. I'd meant to use it to free them quicker, but they'd distracted me with their questions. "Where did you get that thing?"

Jess muffled a scream and Michelle wailed out a warning that made me wince. I turned, expecting to see more of the drones bearing down on us and lifted my blade higher, ready to fight. Instead of black drones, Wolf finished melting into view with an electric sizzle. He grabbed me by the good shoulder and pulled me back away from my friends.

"Hey! Stop it!" I protested, pushing against him. I faced them all and lifted my free hand. "Shut up! _Shut up, shh_! It's fine, he's a friend! Quiet, quiet! _Please_!"

Wolf pushed against my chest, lifting a finger to tell me to wait. I knew what he was going to do but I had work to finish. I wasn't going to wait this time. I shook my head and stared him down with my best belligerent glare. "No! No I'm getting them down! They're fine!"

_Everything is going to be okay_.

He paused and rotated a few inches to look at me, his head cocked to the side. The four clamored behind us, terrified by his presence.

"What is that thing? Kid, get away from it, just get out of here," the cop insisted.

"Nichole what the fuck?"

"Oh my god is that another _alien_?"

"Did you say it's a _friend_?"

My anger peaked and I turned on them, snarling through clenched teeth. "_Shut up_! You have to be fucking _quiet! _How many times do I have to _tell you_? I'll get you all down, but shut the _fuck_ up for _three minutes_! Don't worry about him, okay? He's here to help."

The four of them looked bewildered, but they all fell silent.

I sighed and straightened my jacket, then brushed a stray lock of hair out of my eyes. "Kind of, anyway," I muttered.

"Kind of?" Jake echoed. His voice was thick, breathless, and Anderson popped into my head.

Teeth grinding and head pounding, I inhaled a few times. There was nothing wrong. I was there to help, and I was going to make everything better.

We would all escape together, and this time I wouldn't leave them behind to rot.

Wolf made a quiet growl and approached me. I squared my shoulders and met his gaze evenly. I should let him do what he wanted to do, but I couldn't bring myself to allow it.

"I'm getting them down." I forced every ounce of confidence I had into the words.

He shifted his weight, then took a step away. Clicking in a resigned tone, he turned to the side before making a sweeping gesture with his hand.

I relaxed and smiled in relief. "Thank you."

"Nichole, what is that?" Jess whispered as I went to work with hacking at the crust with my blade. I was careful to keep a wide berth around her body to avoid cutting her. It was hard work, a lot of prying and chopping.

"An alien. He's been helping me and is good at killing the black things," I muttered, helping Jess to her feet before moving to Michelle's side.

"Why is it helping you?" the officer asked, eyes narrowed.

Ignoring him for the moment, Jess and I worked to free Michelle. After making some progress I said, "Fuck if I know, but I'd be dead four times over if he hadn't been around."

Though I said he was there to help, Wolf didn't lift a hand to assist in freeing them.

Whatever, he could sit there and sulk for all I cared.

Michelle came free from her prison and I helped her stand. She groaned and shook slime from her hands, then pulled long strands of it from her hair. "Disgusting. . . ."

It wasn't long before everyone alive was freed from their confines. They were sticky and shaken, but they were out. I saved the officer for last, aware that he would use his rank to take control of the situation, even though he didn't know a god damn thing about what was happening.

To my surprise, he didn't make it a big event. "Alright kid, do you know a way off this ship? We have to move."

"No, but he might. Let me ask."

"Nichole, there were these things. I think—"

I cut Jake off before he could finish that thought. He looked disgruntled, but I couldn't put up with it right then. "No time, we have to get you guys out of here. There's a much bigger alien running around on the ship so we gotta hurry."

_Everything is going to be okay._

Hoping I hadn't pissed him off too bad, I took a tentative step toward Wolf. "Can you lead us off the ship? Just get us safely out—them. Even just them. I'll stay and I'll be whatever you need me to be, I promise. Just—please, please help me get them out of here!" I pleaded.

They wouldn't make it out if he didn't help.

He regarded me for a moment, then turned his gaze toward the huddled group. Wolf lifted his hand to press a few buttons on his wrist computer, then glanced back at me. I watched him for a second until he made a quiet, gentle trill. His head shook and he pointed at them, and then at the eggs.

"They're _fine_!" I insisted.

_Simmons. Anderson. _

"They'll be okay, we just need to get them off the ship and they'll be okay! Please, do this for me and I'll do whatever you want."

Wolf stared at me a moment longer, then uttered a sharp sound. Shoulders squared, he headed for the exit. I watched him until he stopped at the portal, then turned and motioned for us to come. My heart soared and I turned toward my friends. "C'mon! He'll get us off this ship!"

"How do you know it's not a trick?" the police officer demanded. He had his hand on his gun and was staring at Wolf. "It's an alien. Why the hell would it help us?"

"Yeah, what if it's a trap?" Jake said.

"Nichole what did you mean you'll do whatever it wants?" Jess asked in a tiny voice.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Every moment we spent trying to argue was another moment the drones could use to close in on us. "We don't have _time_ for this. You have to trust me, okay? He hasn't done anything to hurt me and could have killed me at any time. Please can we go?"

None of them were convinced. Michelle coughed and loosened her jacket, and the others fidgeted. I looked between them all and shook my head.

_They don't trust me. I left them._

I'd have to _make_ them trust me.

"Fine! You can stay here and try to get out on your own, or you can follow me and him to safety, but Jess and I are going!" I reached for Jess' hand and dragged her toward the door. She put up a bit of resistance, then jogged after me.

Jake glanced around, his expression uneasy. "Nichole I really don't think—"

"Well?" I interrupted him, turning to face them. Jess trembled next to me. "This is your last chance. We're leaving."

With that, I finished dragging Jess to Wolf and stood just outside the room. The eggs inside rustled and shifted, and soon enough Jake and Michelle skirted around Wolf, cowering before him. The officer emerged shortly after, keeping his arm up as if to protect them.

"Alright, stay close," the officer said. "Nichole—that's your name?—get over here."

He meant well, but I knew I was safer next to Wolf than I was him. "I told you it's fine," I said, keeping a death grip on Jess' hand.

Still, he insinuated himself between us and our escort. I grunted a protest, but was forced away from Wolf all the same. At least he wasn't trying to take the sword from me. His hand never left his gun, and Wolf pretended not to care.

*:･ﾟ✧

I was walking on air as we jogged through the winding hallways of the massive ship. Jess and Michelle and her boyfriend were all okay. The cop, too, and I guess that was a good thing. Wolf was on board and leading us out of danger. Even if something were to happen to me, at least I knew my friends were going to make it out.

"C'mon, stay close," I murmured. They kept falling back, trying to avoid being close to Wolf as he navigated the bowels of his ship.

No one but I was comfortable remaining within arm's-reach of him.

I couldn't blame them. He was an intimidating specimen to be sure.

Wolf continued to glance back at me and my friends every few minutes. He always rumbled and rattled quiet gibberish at me, but I couldn't understand. Or maybe I didn't want to understand. There was nothing to talk about, anyway.

Jess' hand had slipped from mine around five or six minutes after we'd left their prison room. I hadn't wanted to make her more uncomfortable than she already was, so I let her fall back.

Once they realized how helpful Wolf could be, I knew they wouldn't be so scared of him.

Though if I was being honest with myself, _I_ was still a little scared of him. He'd survived his ship crashing, was the largest man (alien man) that I'd ever met in person, and was armed to teeth with acid-proof weapons. He was dangerous—but for now he was on our side.

And for now he was humoring my silly human request to get my friends safe. I wasn't sure why, but I wasn't going to question it. Not when it was all I wanted.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"Nichole," Michelle called, jogging up to match strides with me despite how close it brought her to Wolf. She tapped me on my shoulder and I jerked around. She indicated back and said, "It's Jess."

My steps faltered and I turned to see Jess falling even further behind, clutching her chest. I knew she had less stamina than most of my friends, but my heart still started to beat harder against my rib cage. Michelle stifled a wheeze next to me and I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Keep going I'll be back," I said to Wolf.

Even as I said it, he came to a halt as I went to Jess. The police officer was close to her, and Jake pulled Michelle to him, whispering something in her ear.

I did my best to ignore them all and hurried to Jess's side.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, placing tentative hands on her shoulders and squeezing encouragement.

She looked up at me, face contorted in pain, and caught her breath before responding. I heard a screech somewhere in the distance and jumped. My eyes darted to Wolf, but he made no move to defend or attack. If he wasn't worried about the noise, then I wasn't either. Next to us, the police officer grunted and pulled on his collar.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"I think—I think I'm okay. My chest just. . .hurts a little bit is all. I can keep going, though. I'm not used to running so much," she forced a smile on her face before wincing. Her shoulders hunched inward and she bent over to heave in a breath.

The police officer looked up from Jess to me. He continued to rub at his chest, then cleared his throat. "We should rest. We're all a little ragged right now."

I shook my head and ignored Jake as he muttered to a silent and crying Michelle. "No, we can't. We have to keep going. I'm sure the exit isn't too much farther."

Wolf was still standing in the same spot, staring directly at me, head tilted.

"Well, are we close to leaving?" I asked him.

He shook his head and I watched him for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant. Michelle trembled in Jake's arms, who was white as a sheet and stone-faced.

Another screech reached us—the Echo, sending its pulses down the corridors in search of whatever. My eyes widened and I gaped at Wolf, disbelieving. He'd been following the Echo's trail the entire time, hunting it down and dragging us along for the ride.

But why? He'd said. . .he'd said he would help my friends escape. I shook my head and turned back to them, breathing heavy I fought back tears. I'd be mad at him later.

_Everything is going to be okay._

Jess whimpered and I moved around her side, trying to make her straighten up. She was doubled over, both hands holding her chest and her jacket open. I set my arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight, whispering, "Jess? Jess stand up and. . .and put your hands on. . . ."

She wheezed violently and fell to her knees. I crouched in front of her, rubbing her back with gentle strokes. My heart pounded against my chest and my mind fought to rationalize. We'd been running. She wasn't in good shape, so she wasn't used to all the exercise and stress. We were all frantic and panicking—it was a stress cough.

It had to be a stress cough.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"Jess?" My voice was small.

Her shoulders quaked and everyone else crowded around, asking if she was okay. One of them coughed several times, but I couldn't tell who it was.

"It—it hurts," Jess whimpered, gasping for breath.

Someone squeaked in surprise and I felt a familiar weight on my shoulder—Wolf's hand. He chittered with urgency and I shrugged him off, lifting a hand and waving it around my head to try to ward him away. "Just give her some space! Just back up!"

Jake stepped up next to me, his face grim. "Nichole, I was trying to tell you—"

"_Shut up_!"

He glowered and made to take a step toward me, but Michelle clutched him tight. So he remained by her side and said, "No! Nichole, there were these things, okay? These little spider things! Everywhere in the room! And the people who had died in there. . . . I saw Victor, his chest—"

Jess cried out, cutting him off, and I turned toward her with wide eyes. "That thing. . .the spider thing. . . . It was on me and. . .Nichole is that going to happen to me?"

My heart plummeted to the bottom of my feet.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"No—no you're fine. I didn't see any spider thing, Jess. Just take deep breaths. Okay? Just breathe deep and stand up and put your hands on your head—it'll open your airways better and—"

Michelle choked out a sob somewhere to my right. "Nichole. . . ."

A soul-shattering crack rent through the small corridor, punctuated by Jess' cry of pain. Then, everything else fell silent.

"Jess?" I whispered, sitting back, looking at her from arm's length. Jess crumpled to the floor and writhed, her eyes closed tight and mouth open in silent wails. Tears started to slide down my cheeks. "Jess?"

_Everything is going to be okay._

"Oh my god," Michelle sobbed.

Jake pulled Michelle away from the scene and out of my line of sight. One of them—the cop, Wolf, whoever—tugged on my arm, but I was like an anchor, rooted to the spot on the ground.

Jess bucked and heaved, one of her hands snatched out to grab my wrist. I dropped my weapon to clutch her hand with both of mine, mouth working but unable to create sound. At last I managed to let out one more meek word.

"Jessica?"

She answered with a scream that tore my heart asunder and rent my soul in half. Her ribcage split with the same sound as splintering glass and her shirt tore. Wet droplets splattered my face and neck, but I didn't have the strength to flinch.

Her body bucked with one last spasm. Eyes wide, mouth agape, she tried to pull in one last, rattling breath before she fell still.

From the silence came a high-pitched lament that reverberated through the hall.

With horror, I realized it was coming from me.

_Everything is _not_ going to be okay._

Michelle screamed incoherent words, drowning out my own sounds of anguish. She continued to scream and shuffled around in my peripherals. Jake fought to keep her from bolting from the scene like a frightened mare, but dragged her further away as she collapsed to her knees, sick.

"Jake! Jake what the fuck oh my god no! Jess!" she said, voice shrill.

"I don't know, I don't know! Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. . . ."

The cop hooked his arm around my waist and started tugging me away. I turned to deadweight in his embrace and dug my heels in, grunting and whining like a petulant toddler, gathering Jess in my arms. Her name left my tongue over and over.

Then everything hazed over and I stopped fighting him. It was like I was viewing the world from behind a sheet of glass, noises muffled and disjointed. The world faded away until it was only me and Jess' body, half pulled into my lap as if I could bring her back. I froze as a tiny, gray head peered from the hole it had created.

It turned to looked at everyone, sightless head falling on me last, and then it slithered out to make a break for it.

A guttural snarl ripped from my throat. I wrenched myself free of the officer and lunged. The blade Wolf had given me was in my hand in an instant and I reached over Jess' body. With a violent moention lashed out at the chestburster. The blade came down swift and hard, cleaving the thing in two like butter. I left the blade there, stuck part in the floor, and stumbled blindly to my feet.

My ears rang. Rage guttered in my chest and the police officer pulled me away again.

The world crashed on top of me in an avalanche of sensations. Michelle was screaming, Jake was shouting, and the cop pushed me back before removing his jacket and covering Jess.

I looked down at the redness on my palms, mouth open in a strangled cry. My face and neck were wet from tears and maybe a little bit of spittle, specks of warm blood mixing with it. I stumbled back before bumping into something solid as a wall; a wall that chittered.

Wolf put his hand on my shoulder and moved me behind him. I still staggered back, unable to maintain my balance, and fell to my knees. Between each gasp for breath, I fought to control the sobs that wracked my frame.

_How could this have gone so wrong? _

"There was one on me, too!" Michelle wailed.

_It wasn't supposed to be like this, it wasn't supposed to. . . ._

"Me, too," Jake muttered. He was despondent, unable to look away from the creature that had killed Jess. The officer had his hand on his head as he paced.

Michelle became hysteric. "Don't let that happen to me! I can't have that! I can't go through that! Please! Please you gotta do something!" I didn't know who she was talking to, but when I looked up, she was staring at me with horror. "Did you know about this, Nichole?"

I swallowed hard and managed a tiny little shake of my head. My Jaw worked up and down, but no sounds came out.

How could I admit to it?

How could I tell them that I knew exactly what happened to those on the ship?

That it was my fault Jess suffered?

My fault they would all suffer.

Eyes bulging, Michelle grabbed Jake by one hand and dug her fingers into her chest with the other. "Jake! Jake please I can't go through that, please I can't! What do we do? I don't want to die like that!" Her hysterics were making her cough more.

He pulled her tight and she blubbered into his chest, shoulders heaving with each sob. I simpered behind Wolf, hands up by my head and chest constricting with each inhale. My entire body shuddered in convulsions and I sucked in air through my mouth. Suppressing the screams was becoming harder and harder.

Jake was speaking, but I couldn't hear. I tuned them out and stared between them, eyes locked on the jacket concealing Jess.

_This isn't what I wanted_—I pushed on the sides of my head with my hands, eyes wide and bottom lip quivering—_I was going to make it better—_I drew in a quaking breath and wrapped my arms around myself. I shook my head and clenched my eyes shut—_I did this_—all I'd wanted was to make things better, to make it up to them.

Not make it worse.

They were having a conversation without me. I caught bits and pieces of it as I tried to process what was going on, where I'd gone wrong. Michelle was beside herself, and Jake was doing his best to console her. But why bother? This was how it was going to end.

If I'd listened to Wolf, I would have had been able to apologize properly. They wouldn't be suffering. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and looked behind me.

The officer leaned against a wall, coughing and hacking.

For some reason Jake was before Wolf, imploring him for something. Michelle hung from his arm, tears flowing from her cheeks.

She shook her head and sniffed wetly, swallowing hard, and yanked on Jake's arm. "No, no I don't. I don't want to! I don't want—I don't want to die at all! Baby, babe, Jake, baby please there has to be. . . . Can't he fix it? Can he take them out?"

Michelle looked at me, then let go of Jake and ran to my side, grabbing my arms. I supported her the best I could when her legs buckled from pain, but we both wound up kneeling on the ground. When she spoke, she strained with the words. "Nichole—Tell me, tell me he can get it out. He can, right? He's got. . .he's got the alien tech!"

Though my mouth opened, nothing came from it. I shook my head, fresh tears welling in my eyes, and glanced over my shoulder at Wolf. He motioned toward the ship as a whole and I swallowed.

_He tried making that machine work. Righted it, tried to turn it on._

_ To fix my wound_

But it hadn't turned on. It had sparked and fizzled and hadn't worked.

"The ship," I whispered. "When it crashed, the systems went down. The machines were all. . . ."

Her grip on my arms loosened and her momentarily hopeful expression deadened into despair. Jake pulled her off me and hugged her to his chest. "This is the only way."

_What's the only way?_

I looked to Wolf for answers; he regarded me in silence, flexing his arm. The blades in his wrist gauntlet extended with a metallic hiss and he tilted his head to the side. Everyone flinched at the sound, including me.

Those impassive eye sockets on his mask didn't leave me.

He was asking for my permission.

But for what? What had they been talking about? What was the only way?

The officer's swift movement drew my attention from Wolf. He took two strides forward, his arm moving from his hip upward. Wolf growled and stepped to my side at the same time a loud pop split the air and rattled my skull.

_ What? _

Michelle's grip on my arms tightened, her manicured fingernails digging deep into my flesh. A strangled noise came from her throat and then she was gone from my side. "_Jake! Baby, no!"_

His body was already crumpled on the floor, lifeless.

"Jake! No, no, no, no!" she wailed, falling on her knees by her boyfriend, hands fluttering over his body, unsure of where to land or how to help. Her tear-streaked face turned to the officer, holding his gun. "Why? What the fuck? What the fuck! I—you didn't let me say goodbye!"

He moved the handgun off of Jake, lowering it a few inches. His free hand was clutching his chest, and he labored with his breathing. Every now and again he jerked with spasms.

"It's easier if it's quick," the officer muttered, voice rough and heavy.

This. . . ? This is what they had been talking about? They were going to end it on their own terms. Wolf had been trying to tell me. He was going to put them out of their misery.

I'd stopped him.

_You're nothing but a burden to everyone._

Torn, I scrambled over on my hands and knees to Michelle, holding her arm with both my hands. My eyes were on the officer, though, my head shaking with a silent prayer. He couldn't shoot her, I didn't want him to shoot her.

Just one, surely I could save _one_ of them.

They couldn't all die.

A rough hand stole me away from her, prying me with inhuman strength, and I stumbled up with an incoherent protest. I reached out for Michelle and she reached back, but Wolf pulled me farther away, chittering and growling the entire time.

Wolf's grip remained firm on me, though I tugged against it as much as I could. "Michelle," I managed to warble, the tears falling freely. "Michelle—"

She turned toward me and started to say something, but she doubled over and grabbed at her chest. In place of her sentence came an agonized shriek of pain. My heart withered and my fortitude faded until Wolf was the only thing keeping me on my feet.

The officer swallowed hard and raised his weapon again. "I'm sorry—it'll be quick, I promise."

He fired a single shot.

It jarred me to the bone and I jerked, as if it was me he was shooting. Michelle fell limp shortly after, folding over atop her boyfriend. Wolf fell quiet next to me, his eyes on the officer. His blades retracted back into his gauntlet.

I could feel it.

The tight pain in my chest. It was an ever-present hole, a hollow void where my heart was. Like I would never be able to breathe again.

No longer could I feel my heart pounding in my chest.

There was nothing.

A numbness spread throughout me, the only sensation being that crippling abyss. It swallowed me whole and I fell to my knees at the same time the cop did. Wolf let me go this time, allowing me to slip down into a slump.

"I've got two left," the officer said. I looked up at him to see he had already sighted me.

And I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Just enough."

Wolf, however, was having none of it. He issued a warning growl and stepped in front of me, extending his blades again. The officer stared at the two of us, looked back at the bodies, then sighed.

"Alright," he said, placing the gun against his temple. He could hardly hold it there while his body convulsed from its affliction. Already the sound of splintering bones was filling the hallway. He hadn't much time. "Use it if you need to. I'm sorry."

The shot ate the last piece of me. He fell, and I choked back a sob.

My escort took a moment to watch the bodies. I rose, hollow and weary, and headed down the hallway without a word.

Every step was unsure and ragged. My muscles shook like leaves in the wind and I felt so cold. So empty. Not even the gruesome sounds of tearing skin and broken bones could penetrate the nothingness. There came a tiny squeal, cut short by singing metal. I stumbled and chewed the bottom of my lip, vision blurry with tears.

Head shots won't kill the fetus.

I didn't know where I was going. Sounds of drones echoed down the hallway, drawn by the commotion. What did it matter, though? So what if they found me? Wolf would kill them and we'd continue on our way.

Business as usual.

He stopped me with a heavy hand and I looked up at him, not caring if he saw me crying. In his hand was the weapon I'd left behind. I stared at it as if I'd never seen it before, and he forced me to take hold of it. He babbled gibberish at me, then took point and headed down the hallway.

Just as I'd thought. Nothing out of the ordinary here. Death was expected in his line of duty.

It still cut me deep. The sorrow and emotional numbness muted the anger I wanted to feel at his lack of empathy. How could I be mad at him when this was normal? What did I expect? Sympathy? Condolences? A pat on the head?

Wolf didn't care my friends were all dead. He didn't care about my feelings. For all I knew his species wouldn't even be able to comprehend the emotions of humans.

Onward he dragged me, the sound of the Echo and its entourage scant meters behind us.

_Whatever. Let them come. _

He opened up a door and pushed me inside, following closely. Instead of closing it he pushed me deeper inside the room and waited a second. Then, he turned to me and made a gesture I only saw from the corner of my eye before he disappeared.

Sobs formed knots in my chest and throbbed in the back of my head. I kept them in, but my legs refused to hold my weight any longer. My knees buckled and I collapsed to the ground, head in my hands. Wolf's rattling ceased and was replaced by the thundering footsteps of the Echo. It rushed past with a roar.

When the drones zipped by without checking the room, I hid my face in my knees. The silence spanned for several seconds and settled around me like a smothering blanket.

They were gone.

Wolf had left me.

And the silence deafened me.

I was alone. My friends were dead. Wolf had abandoned me because I was emotionally weak. I was on my own again, and I wasn't even sure if I wanted to make it out anymore. There was no one to save. My survival wasn't going to help anyone but me.

Air wouldn't fill my lungs and I started to hyperventilate. Drained physically and mentally, I collapsed onto my side and curled into a tight ball, my hands over my head. I inch-wormed my way from the doorway and sobbed into my arms. I didn't bother keeping them in check. They shook me hard enough to hurt.

_Nothing will ever be okay._

_ My fault._


	11. Alone

**Hello, readers!**

**SO THIS IS A WEIRD ONE. I had to POST a new chapter and slap this puppy in the middle of the story so I didn't interrupt the flow, so everything's been moved back a SMIDGEN. So until I finish the rest of the updates, the chapter numbers are going to be all kinds of wonky and I APOLOGIZE PLEASE FORGIVE ME.**

**But I guess on the bright side the story is back on the first page? And now everyone knows I'm editing these soooo I hope you enjoy the edited version of the story lmao.**

**This marks the end of the updates! I'm not sure when the next batch will come out, but I hope it doesn't take as long as this batch did. This is the shortest chapter so far (in a while, at least) but I'm not sure what else to do! Let me know if I rushed anything I could have spent more time on, and of course let me know if there's any inconsistencies with this update (if anyone else is reading this updates lmao).**

**This chapter has been updated as of 5/7/2016. **

**~Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Ten

Alone

Time came to a standstill and I lost track of how long I lied there. It could have been two minutes or two hours. Eventually I ran out of steam and turned into a simpering mess of silent sobs and dry tears. My body still trembled, tired and worn out, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to stand again.

It wasn't fair.

Why me? Why was I okay? Why was I the person who had survived? Why not my friends?

I didn't deserve it. I'd left them. Maybe if I'd just stuck with them until the end I could have helped them out. I could have stopped them from being infected altogether.

But would I have even escaped without Anderson's help?

Tears had long since stopped spilling, and my sobs had subsided into quieter hiccups. I remained in a tight ball, quaking and beating myself up.

After all, I'd done this.

I had convinced Jess to come on this stupid trip. I had withdrawn so far from reality that I couldn't see the truth, and Jess had suffered. She'd died a horrible death because I was too selfish to believe that she was in pain.

Wolf had tried to tell me. Jake had tried to tell me. Why hadn't I just listened?

I'd done this.

_My fault._

Slowly I sat up and braced myself against the wall. Though I didn't cry, I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. There was nothing left for me to do. I'd followed after Wolf because it was my ticket out of this hell hole. If I got out, I could save my friends. Maybe stop an invasion while I was at it.

But now I had no friends to save.

And stop an invasion? Yeah right. Wolf could kill them all by himself. I'd just been the tag along shadow, riding his wake to safety. Maybe he could kill the Queen and the Echo both. It's not like I was going to be any help.

Did he really need me at all?

There had to be another survivor around that could help him. It was a big ship. Even if they had been wounded, they could have holed themselves up somewhere, tended their wounds, and were waiting for help to arrive.

No one needed me. No one needed a selfish, naïve child. Who was I kidding? Wolf might have saved one of his comrades. Might have already killed the Echo.

And I'd slowed him down.

At least the cop had been on top of it. I only wished there had been more time. Wished he could have allowed us to say goodbye. A goodbye I would never be able to say to Jess. It was for the best that he hadn't hesitated or waited, though. In the end it would have been harder to let go, and they had been in pain. Half a minute later and they would have suffered like Jess had.

Maybe I should be grateful. I couldn't deny that it had been quick. Wolf might have ended it just as painlessly and killed the chestbursters in the same fell swoop, though. I could still hear their bones cracking, bouncing around in my skull.

I didn't feel grateful, though. There wasn't much I _did_ feel.

Just a lot of guilt.

I lifted my head to rest my chin on my knees. Though I didn't move, I glanced around the room within my peripheral vision. There was nothing in it, and I wondered briefly what it was for.

Again I hid my face in my knees, squeezing tighter until the caps pressed into my sternum. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," I said to no one in particular. The ghosts of my dead friends, haunting me until the end of time. Blaming me.

Not that they needed to. I was doing that for them.

_My fault._

More screeches sounded in the far distance. I lifted my head to look, but they were nowhere near my room. Whatever room this was. I thought I heard the Echo somewhere, but it could have been anything. It started my brain, though. Why was I sitting here? Was I waiting for him, or was I waiting for a drone to find me?

Was there no end to my own stupidity?

I didn't have to. Why wait when I could go find the trouble instead?

Whatever part of me that still wanted to live picked up the blade on the ground. I dragged myself into a stand and shuffled to the open door. First glance told me there was nothing outside, so I wandered out. Had Wolf told me to stay? I'd stopped paying attention to him long ago.

Well, if he had, he'd just have to come find me. I wasn't going to wait anymore.

The blade hung limp at my side, long enough that the very tip dragged across the floor. It made a gentle scratching sound every couple seconds, but it was a good distraction from the horrible silence. On a whim I pulled my phone from my pocket. It had a small amount of battery life left and no reception, and the clock read close to five in the morning. Still more than an hour until sunrise.

Sunrise meant it would be easier to make it down the mountain.

Maybe even off the ship.

All I had to do was find a section of the hull that the crash had destroyed. A hole or something I could crawl out of. The drones had to be getting off the ship somewhere, so I had to find it and sneak through it myself. If the sun rose, I could find the hole easier.

Then I'd go home and. . . .

And what? Go back to school? Pretend everything is fine? There wasn't anything left for me. Maybe to see my mom again, my dad, my siblings. I wasn't sure, but I didn't know what else to do but try to go home.

If I lived through stumbling about, I'd figure it out.

*:･ﾟ✧

I fumbled around in a daze, feet dragging. The ship was silent except for the ambient cries of the aliens. They were far enough away I wasn't worried, and even if it had been close I wasn't sure if I would care anyway. I had the serrated blade Wolf had given me. If something came, I'd do my best.

It wouldn't be enough, but I'd try.

Somehow I found myself doubling back to the place my friends had fallen. Maybe I couldn't let them go quite yet. I collapsed next to them, blind to the bloody mess that was their chests. For a moment I stared, then remembered why I was there. Why my legs had carried me back to their corpses.

Identification.

The dog tags were still heavy around my neck, and I rubbed my thumb against the metal tags. They wouldn't have those, but I was sure I could find something to give their parents when I returned.

If I returned.

My hands fumbled through their jackets' and pants' pockets. All Jake had was his wallet, so I pulled out his ID and stowed that with the rest of the things. Michelle had her wallet, phone, and her digital camera, so I put her license next to Jake's and shoved her camera in my back pocket. Jess had her phone, but I was encumbered. I went through the rest of the wallets to find IDs, leaving behind what I could while still keeping something worth keeping.

At least I could wear the dog tags. And it was something that I could do.

A new goal to live for.

Give the dog tags to the military, give the phones and shit to the adults. I could do that. I could live for that.

Oh, but. . ._I didn't want to._

My eyes strayed to the officer. I took his badge and as I was finding room to shove it in my pockets, I saw his gun resting in his limp hands.

It still had one bullet left.

Lip quivering, I pulled it from his fingers and held it in both my hands, the sword on the ground at my side. My hands shook as I stared at it, considering the bullet left in the chamber.

_"Use it if you need to."_ That's what he'd said.

I tightened my grip on it and let my index finger slide onto the trigger. Though I tried, I couldn't raise it higher than my chest. My face contorted into anguish and I tossed the weapon away. It skittered across the ground and smacked into a wall, far out of my reach.

_Can't do it_. I snorted at myself in disgust and stood up to leave.

Exhaustion tugged at my eyelids and weighted my limbs. My mind was running on fumes, ragged and dry. I wandered aimlessly for a while until I could no longer. Even then I soldiered on, stopping only when I found another empty room. It was open, so I assumed it was a public room for all who lived on the ship.

There was a few metal tables welded to the floor. I curled up underneath one, figuring I could take a small break after all that I'd done, all the progress. All the death. I deserved that much, right?

Just a few minutes to lay down?

After wandering for the fifteen or so minutes, I hadn't seen hide nor hair of anything. No Wolf. No drones. No nothing. I figured I could have a couple moments to myself to just rest. I wanted sleep, but I couldn't have sleep.

My tears had dried up, the sobs subsided to an occasional hiccup. The crying had taken its toll, though. I thought I had done a decent job keeping it together. I was mostly keeping it together, still.

Mostly.

Maybe I could sleep. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. If I just let myself succumb to my exhaustion, I would be asleep for when the drones found me. Maybe then I wouldn't feel them tear me apart. I'd be asleep, and I would never wake up.

Easy.

I wouldn't have to wake up deal with the consequences of what I'd done.

It would be better than dealing with the sharp pain in my chest. Better than the knowledge that I had killed Jess. That I had killed them all.

But I'd already known that.

From the very second that I'd left them behind in the woods I knew I'd killed them. Why did it matter now? What was the difference? Killed them then, killed them now. . . .

Maybe because I hadn't watched them die.

Now I had.

Wolf's blade laid next to me on the ground, dropped when I had collapsed. I blinked at it, then pushed it away and rolled over, my back to it. I didn't want to use it anymore. I didn't want to try. I was too tired. Shooting myself was too hard, just as saving my friends was.

I didn't deserve a quick death. That was too good for me.

Being torn apart in my sleep was almost too good for me. Why did I deserve to live? I was nothing but a burden. A useless heap of flesh that needed to be saved and protected, a selfish waste of space that left her friends behind and forced an alien to help her.

_I'm done._

_ Done, done, done, done, done. . . ._

Closing my eyes, I pillowed my head on my arms and curled up tighter. My breathing slowed and it felt amazing to close my eyes and rest. To pretend that I wasn't on an alien ship crawling with things that wanted to eat me.

It was way past my bed time, anyway. I should be in bed, sleeping. None of it should have happened. They'd warned us.

But it was too late now.

Finally I started to slip. I let my eyes close and took in one more shaky breath, remnants of crying. My mind raced with "should'a, would'a, could'a" scenarios, threatening to keep me awake.

Not for long, though.

I knew that with how exhausted I was, I would pass out into sleep sooner rather than later and then it would be all be over. A drone would find me, and I could only hope that I would sleep through the infection or mauling.

That was a mercy I didn't deserve. Let me wake up to find them tearing at me.

Let my punishment come.

*:･ﾟ✧

Somewhere—somewhere close—a screech jerked me from my slumber. I started violently and my eyes shot open, immediately darting around the small room.

I couldn't have been asleep for long.

So, after all, I would be awake for my comeuppance.

The sound came again, louder this time. My heart started to pound against my chest and I blinked away the dreariness from my sight.

Part of me wanted to curl back up and try to sleep again, but my lizard brain forced me to find out. I crawled out from under the table, my hand brushing the hilt of the big-ass blade that Wolf had gifted. My fingers folded around the cool handle out of instinct and I inched toward the door.

All I saw were shadows inside shadows on top of more shadows. There was something out there, though, in the hallway. I thought I saw movement somewhere to my side and I stared, but saw nothing. They were beginning to dredge up more feeling of flight or fight.

But why? I shouldn't care. I wanted this. I forced myself to calm down, to take a deep breath.

_This is how it should be._

When the drone's shape appeared, no matter what I thought, I was afraid. It was unadulterated and viscous fear burning in the back of my head.

Its form had the hairs on the back of my neck raising. I lifted the blade higher and tried to sneak back into the room, but it spotted me. The drone swiveled its head toward me, chrome fangs glinting in the dim lighting. Though the damage was already done, I ducked back inside.

I raised the blade higher, then lowered it again.

_Let it come. Let it finish this and dole out your punishment._

Frozen in place, my eyes were wide and unblinking. The drone's head peered into the room and I backed up further until my back hit a table. My heart dropped.

_All you have to do is stand here._

My arms moved of their own accord and raised the blade higher. Though I tried, my arms was stuck in that pose, fingers white-knuckled around the grip. I was just waiting for the angel of death to swoop in and end my misery.

When it squealed and lurched toward me, adrenaline forced me into movement.

Flight.

As if under a spell, my legs jerked me out of the way. I stumbled and picked myself up, then tore down the hallway. The thing shrieked and give chase. I pushed myself faster, arms and legs pumping. A corner blocked my way and I skittered to change direction, thumping against the wall. I almost dropped the sword.

At least the hallways, unlike the forest, were a straight shot. There wasn't as much debris to deal with but the occasional hanging wires and tubes or pieces of ceiling. Maybe I was a goal keeper and not a striker, but I was in shape. I could still run, I was still fast.

_Stop running!_

My body wouldn't listen to the desperate, guilty voice that plagued me. Fear drove me forward, fueled by every sound the thing behind me made. I knew not to look backwards and I kept my eyes forward, on the prize. Possible escape.

But it wasn't escape.

It was a dead end.

I was running fast enough and it was dark enough that the end of the hallway snuck up on me. I slammed on the breaks, but I still collided against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of me. I practically bounced off and my arms flailed as I tried to keep my balance.

_What about the drone?_

Whirling around, I put my back to the wall and held the blade in front of me, trembling. I coughed a few times, trying to fill my lungs with air again and rid myself of the pain.

It was still sprinting toward me. I couldn't drop the weapon and as the beast bore down on me, there was only one thought in my head. It overrode any of the guilt I was feeling and overwhelmed any of my higher cognitive thoughts.

_ I'm scared._

When it saw I was trapped, it slowed its pace. Its head swung one way and another, considering me, checking for other enemies. Weighing its options and seeing what I would do. The waiting was killing me. The end result would be the same—so what if I put up a little bit of a fight?

Maybe it was better that way. Maybe it would just outright kill me instead of bother with having to string me up to a wall.

Step by step it came closer, hissing and snarling. My chest heaved with each breath and I couldn't hold the blade in my hand steady, even with both hands. When it was about ten yards away, it stopped and crouched, muscles bunching. I knew it was going to spring and attack.

I wanted to let it, but my body tensed in preparation.

_I don't want to die._

Self-preservation won over guilt. When it leaped, I was ready.

The drone sprang with its powerful back legs, arms outstretched and claws ready to strike. I bellowed an incoherent battle-cry—more like a frightened scream—and lashed out with Wolf's blade. The black serpent screeched as the swing connected, slicing off one of the large shoulder protrusions.

It wasn't enough to stop it and it slammed into me. I smashed back-first into the wall and the weight of the monster dragged me to the ground.

Grunting and whimpering, I fought to slice with the blade, to thrust it upward. Claws tore the arm of my shirt and my skin, then I found my mark with the blade. The creature snarled and I used all my strength to shove it away from me, the blade driven deep into its chest.

It thrashed on the ground and I rolled away from it after pulling my weapon loose. I had to get away from it, had to crawl. . . .

White-hot pain exploded on my shoulder blade. I screamed and flipped over, convulsing once. The drone hadn't quite died, and it was looming over me to strike. Acid blood poured from its open chest and I squirmed away from it.

I'd pulled out the only thing plugging up the wound on its chest.

Its blood ate through my jacket and seared my skin. I kicked away from the alien as it stumbled and fell. Just in time I yanked my leg back to avoid dripping acid. It screeched and reached out with a claw, tearing my pant leg, but it couldn't stand.

The barb-tipped tail lashed out at me, striking the ground by my hip. I thrashed and somehow pulled my feet under me enough to propel away from it.

I had to put some distance between us, had to deal with this burn. . . .

The pain was almost unbearable. I did the only thing I could think to do—I threw myself toward the drone.

They drooled copious amounts of thick slime, and it was pooling underneath it. That was the answer. Those things didn't burn themselves. I dipped in to soak my fingers in the pooled slime, then zagged away from sharp claws.

In order to stop acid you had to drop the base, and the slime was the base.

Rolling to avoid a tail-slash, I braced against a wall and slathered the slime over the growing burn. I caked as much onto it as I could and the relief was almost instant.

Though the pain didn't stop, it didn't worsen and that sound stopped. I could no longer hear my flesh sizzling and I whipped around, picking up the blade I had dropped. The drone hadn't gotten back up, but it was still trying to crawl toward me. I stood and took a few swift steps toward it, ducked under its tail, and then drove Wolf's sword into its skull.

When I pulled it out, the drone slumped, and didn't move again.

Stumbling and panting, I fell to the floor. I watched the thing for a few minutes, waiting to see if it would get up, and when it didn't I crawled toward it. My shoulder blade stung with an intensity that brought tears to my eyes, and I feared the acid-blood would eat through me.

The first application had helped, but it still hurt so much. It was corroding my flesh and it was only a matter of time before it ate my bone.

Thick, viscous saliva dribbled from the dead creature's maw. Though it made my skin crawl, I coated my fingers in the nastiness and rubbed some of it all over my shoulder blade. It hurt to touch and I could already tell how marred the skin was.

In a moment of hysteria, I thought what luck I had that it was my back and not my chest.

Relief came with more slime and I held my arm tight to my chest. Every breath was a pained wheeze, my mouth agape in silent screams.

My entire body trembled. I swallowed hard and leaned my head against the wall, closing my eyes and trying to catch my breath. There wasn't much time for rest, this I knew, but even a couple seconds of a reprieve would be good enough.

Something brushed against the top of my head. My eyes flew open and I whirled around, swinging wildly with the blade. Too late I realized that it was Wolf standing there.


	12. Endless Night

**Hello readers!**

**I swear to god the action is going to pick up again next chapter. I know I've been dragging this out a little bit probably but hey what can I do except say "I promise this is going somewhere!" XD **

**Anyway, I may have to bump this down to once a week instead of every five days because I ran out of pre-written material so now I have to start this all from scratch. That means I'm going to be writing the new chapter from scratch AND revising it all in one week, so I just hope the quality doesn't suffer. If it does, I'll have to try longer gaps between updates. **

**Just let me know if the chapters start sucking and I'll do my best to fix it. XD Hopefully I'll see you guys Friday, but if not, just know that it's because I think you deserve better quality and am taking a little bit more time.**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Ten

Endless Night

I barely had enough time to register what was going on. One second I was hacking wildly at something I thought was attacking me, then the next my arms throbbed in protest with the solid impact of my blade against armor. I reeled with the jarring blow, but didn't move in for a second attempt.

This was Wolf, after all. It wouldn't matter _how_ many I times I tried.

"I—" Words failed me as I gaped openly at him. He stood there with his arm up, gauntlet facing me as if preparing to ward off another swing. I hadn't even seen him move to block, he'd been so fast.

Eventually my wits returned to me and I tensed. "I—I'm sorry! I wasn't expecting—I thought you'd. . . I'm sorry!" I took a tentative step away from him and raised my blade a few inches in front of me. I was afraid of retaliation.

Wolf watched me back, head cocked slightly to the side, and then he turned away to look at the dead body of the drone. He studied it for a moment, then looked at me.

At first I was little nervous. Was I not supposed to kill it? No fuck that it was going to kill me.

Why would he be upset that I killed it?

Suddenly, he closed the distance between us with a single stride, giving me barely any time to react. It wasn't a particularly threatening gesture, but I still tensed and held my breath when he reached for me. It was too quick for me to do much besides lift the blade a little higher to block, but he just grabbed my wrist and held me still. I stood perfectly rigid as he pried my left hand off of the blade. I started to protest and struggle, but his grip was gentle if not firm. He adjusted my right hand's grip on the hilt of the blade, pushed my shoulders back, and then kicked my legs apart before correcting my posture once more.

I stood there, dumbfounded, until he stepped back and appraised my stance. I had been standing like I was up to bat, but now I was crouched slightly, my arm held out to my side and blade raised. I felt absolutely ridiculous, but also a tad bit more stable.

But mostly just ridiculous.

He pulled out a smaller blade than the one I held, and mimicked my posture. I started to move out of the stance, afraid he was asking me to fight. He retaliated by moving faster than I would have ever guessed he could and smacking me with the flat of his blade. It was punctuated by a sharp growl.

"Ow!" I recoiled and gave him a hurt look. "You hit me!"

Once again he smacked my arm with the flat of his blade and snarled. "Ow! Shit! Fine!"

Grumbling profanities, I did my best to slide back into the stance he had shown me and glowered at him, waiting. He appraised me, then gave me some space and crouched down. What the fuck was going on? Was he challenging me? Teaching me? Why?

What did he even care anymore? I'd had an emotional breakdown and broke some sort of "don't kill babies" rule. Why was he even here bothering with me?

And fuck that if he was going to fight me I was running for it.

No way this muscular alien was faster than tiny little me.

After a second, he swung his blade, making me flinch slightly. The only thing keeping me from booking it was the fact that he was far enough away that it didn't even come close to hitting me. He did it a couple more times, then watched me expectantly. I huffed, realized that he wanted me to give it a shot, then tried my best to replicate the way he'd swung. It was remarkably easy with the blade being so light, but I could still feel my face flush—this whole situation was outside of my comfort zone.

He showed me again, and I tried it a couple more times until he nodded in approval and put his blade away.

I stared at him, bewildered.

Then I lost control of my brain-mouth filter.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out, sounding more demanding than I'd meant.

However, when he looked at me with his head cocked, I didn't falter. My confidence grew as my anger built—anger at this position, anger at myself, anger at my friends' death. . . . "Why are you even bothering with me anymore? Teaching me how to swing this stupid thing? You left, remember? I killed that baby thing, I had a complete melt down—"

When I paused for breath, Wolf crackled something like a question at me.

"I'm not _like you! _That was my _best friend_ in there, and it was _my fault._ I can't just walk away! I can't just _get over it_. I don't know how you people handle the death of a friend, or a comrade, or whatever, but I can't just. . . just _deal_ with it," I ranted, swinging my weapon dangerously for emphasis.

He cocked his head to the side and watched, waiting for me to finish my tirade. I found his silence even more infuriating.

I took a breath and continued. "At least don't pretend this is something it isn't! I'm nothing but fodder! I'm not a warrior. I just asked for this thing so I could live a little longer, but now I don't care! If I die in here, maybe I'll have made it up to her, to them. So use me as bait, fucking kill me afterwards, I don't even—I don't fucking care anymore," I muttered, staring directly at his chest so I didn't have to look in that impassive mask.

There was a long pause, each heartbeat making me more and more horrified at what I'd just done. How would he even react? Would he just kill me now?

His movement made me look up at him. He extended his hand and set it down on top of my head. I glowered and assumed he was patronizing me, but then he chittered something and turned to motion at the dead drone I had slain. For a moment I just stared at it, then I looked back up at him.

"Yeah, so?" I muttered.

He let his hand fall from my head to my shoulder and then took a step back, straightened his spine, and then thumped his closed fist against his chest. I watched him, brow knitted, then looked back to the dead drone.

The one I had killed. By myself. Without his help.

My eyes widened slightly and I looked up at him, really taking in the way he was facing me, holding his fist to his chest, the heavy weight of his hand on my shoulder. . . was he acknowledging this as some sort of feat?

I suppose in a way it was. The only things I'd killed so far were a bunch of unborn facehuggers, a couple live ones, and two chestbursters. None of them were particularly capable of defending themselves, they were just super obnoxious. Any drones I'd come across I'd either run from or Wolf had killed for me.

This was my first real solo kill.

"But—aren't you upset I'd killed that little one? I'd. . . I'd just been so angry, and I didn't think about it," I muttered, lifting my hands to look at them.

Wolf said something incoherent. It sounded like a statement, a single word, but it wasn't the sound I'd associated with either "yes" or "no". It was longer, but the meaning was lost entirely on me. I frowned and closed my eyes, assuming the worst. "I'm sorry."

"Nichole."

I looked up sharply, startled. That voice—it had been Michelle's. For a moment I had thought—but it was just Wolf standing there, looking at me expectantly. I quickly blinked away the tears and had to remind myself that he knew not what he did to me, though I wanted to punch him for it.

"What?" I asked warily.

He lifted his fist, wrist rotated slightly. I stared at him for a moment, confused, until he urged me on by twitching his arm slightly. For a couple more heart beats I wasn't sure what he wanted, so I just lifted my own arm, shadowing the way he held his wrist out. It seemed like it was the right thing to do, because he nodded and bumped his wrist against mine.

Realization washed over me and I made an O shape with my mouth. It was like a fist bump.

I narrowed my eyes slightly, but couldn't stifle the smile. "So. . . we're cool, then? I mean, you're not mad." Somehow I didn't think he'd understand what "cool" meant in this context.

He nodded and turned away from me to look at the drone. He stared at it for a moment, then grabbed it by its tails and dragged it across the ground, away from the wall. It rolled on its side when he nudged it with his foot, and I wondered what he was doing.

"What's your name?" I asked. For some reason the question brought a heat to my face.

He paused for a second, then rattled off something I couldn't quite follow. He must have read my expression, though, because he repeated it again, a little slower this time.

I did my best to imitate the sounds he made, but that was basically impossible. I gave it two tries, and then when he started laughing at me I just gave up. I felt a blush creep across my face and I grumbled to myself. "Fuck it—I'm going to call you Wolf. Is that okay? Wolf?"

Once his deep, rolling laugh petered out, he just nodded his head.

"Alright then, Wolf. . . what now?"

My new comrade—well old, but I didn't really feel like I was comrade-worthy until now—turned and motioned toward the dead thing on the ground. I stared at it, then looked up at him and just shook my head, not understanding. He cocked his own head to the side, then kneeled down by it and motioned for me to move by the wall. I stared at him, looked around, then sighed and sat down by the wall to wait for him to finish whatever.

The body was shifted as he looked it over. After a moment, he pulled out a short knife and started cutting off the head or something. I couldn't see very well while he was sitting in my line of vision. I shook my head and sighed. "Do we have time for this? What if something else comes by and tries to eat us?"

Wolf just glanced at me, then shook his head and continued his work. I pursed my lips, but decided not to argue. This was his hunt, not mine. If he wanted it to go on all night and into the morning, then whatever. I was just here for the ride. I had no desire to get out of here anymore, so the longer I could stall facing my friends' parents, my own parents—fuck, _the whole town_, the better.

I ended up lying down on my side. I was absolutely exhausted and I felt like I was going to pass out if something exciting didn't happen any time soon. The only thing keeping me going was the thrill of staying alive, and breaks like these just made my whole body ache.

The acid burn on my back still smarted. I had to shift to lay comfortably, but I was tired enough that the pain didn't keep me from closing my eyes.

Didn't keep me from drifting off.

*:･ﾟ✧

A loud growl startled me out of my slumber and I sat up straight. I rubbed at my bleary eyes, blinking in the darkness. It was warm, it was dark. . . I just wanted to sleep. But Wolf wanted my attention, and we still had to kill some giant beast thing so he could get a promotion. Wished he would just hurry it up.

"Hmm?" I hummed, trying to focus long enough to see what he wanted to show me. How long had I slept for?

The drone wasn't completely gutted like I'd expected, just parts of it cut up and its head detached. I had no real idea of how he done any of that. The skull was a little mangled, parts of the spine were missing. . . . I wished I had paid attention, but the short nap I had taken was probably more important than my curiosity.

It would be disastrous if I was too tired when the time came to kill the queen alien.

I examined the dead body from where I sat, wondering what he was doing, then looked up. He was holding something in his hand, and I forced my eyes to focus on it in the dark. A small, barely developed little skull was dangling from a leather thong, a few pieces of vertebrae and teeth lining it on either side. It looked like. . . a necklace? Maybe?

"Are these. . . ." I lifted my hand tentatively, waiting for a rebuke, but when it didn't come I gently took the little skull in my hand. It looked like a tiny little chestburster head. I glanced up at him, unsure what to think. "Like. . . _my_ trophies?"

He nodded and thrust his hand forward, insisting I take it. I rubbed my fingers against my palms, almost a little nervous to be touching weird alien bones, but I didn't want to be rude so I accepted the trinket. Clean and almost perfectly bleached. . . how had he managed to do this on the field? Did he just keep his fancy high-tech skinning and bleaching technology with him wherever?

And why did he make _this_ trinket, instead of something else? That room had been mounted with heads as trophies, so why. . . . ?

The head was obviously too big to take, I realized, and he probably knew it would be better if I wasn't lugging around an alien skull and mounting it on my wall. Aliens tended to be secretive about their existence, right? A small thing like this, though. . . he must have thought that was okay.

I ran the skull over in my hand, wondering where he'd picked up this thing. It wouldn't be just some random thing he'd found or killed. Like the vertebrae and teeth from the drone I'd slain, it would be something I'd killed. But I thought they didn't really condone that kind of thing. . . so which one was it? It couldn't have been the one I'd killed in the first egg room, the one that bit me, because I didn't think he'd go back that far just for this thing. . . .

My eyes widened and I rubbed my index finger over the smooth forehead. "Is this. . . from. . . ." I almost couldn't make myself say it. It felt like my throat was going to swell shut if I tried. I took a steadying breath and looked up at him. "From when my friend. . . ?"

When had he had the time? The last thing I knew was he'd left when I couldn't recover fast enough from the loss of my friends. Well—that wasn't entirely true. He'd just gone invisible. How long had he stood there, watching me? Had he picked up the dead body and cleaned it after I'd run off? I just couldn't understand.

He nodded his head, and I tried to keep the horror off of my face.

Tried to stop myself from hurling the thing down the hallway in disgust.

This was his way of saying he was sorry, that he held some sort of sympathy for me. Or maybe this was just custom in his culture. I didn't know why, I didn't know what it would be for. It was the centerpiece of this trophy, instead of the kill I'd made solo. Obviously it meant something to him, and he thought it would mean something to me.

But to me, it didn't mean quite the same thing.

How could he know that it would just be a constant reminder of my mistakes? Of the death of my best friend and the others?

Anger battled with grief. He hadn't meant this to hurt me. My fingers tightened around the little strap holding the trinket together and I chewed on my bottom lip, fighting tears. I was touched at the gesture as well as infuriated by it.

But I was good at this.

I had years and years of terrible Christmas presents, mediocre birthday gifts. . . . I had practiced false gratitude all my life. It was just an open wound, that was all. I should have been honored that he thought it important enough to make something out of. He was honoring my friend, in his own alien way, and I had to try to respect that.

So I forced down the initial, gut-wrenching reaction, and tried to see it for what it was: a testament to all that had happened to tonight. A reminder that I was stronger than I thought, and that Jess's death hadn't gone unpunished.

Even though I thought I had broken some sort of rule by killing this thing, wolf obviously didn't care or thought it had been justified in some way or another. Maybe it was just the fact that I was human and didn't know any better. I didn't know, I would probably never know. I would just use this as a grim reminder and a warning—don't repeat my past mistakes.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and looked up at Wolf. Somehow I managed a smile, and I nodded. My voice was hoarse when I spoke. "Thank you. It means a lot to me."

Wolf squared his shoulders and grumbled something incoherent. He was already on his feet, and he heaved me up by the back of my shirt as well so we were both standing. I protested dimly at the manhandling, but still steadied myself and straightened my shirt.

However, he stopped short for a second and left me to wallow in self-pity and unjustified anger while he looked over the marred skin of my back. I winced as he gently drew a claw over it, but in the end he didn't seem concerned. He checked the scratches on my arm, quietly chittering to himself, most likely about how fragile I was compared to him, or maybe my lack of armor. Whatever it was, he seemed slightly irritated.

But, obviously he didn't think they were life-threatening because he didn't treat them.

"So I'm going to live?" I asked, my voice flat even though I'd meant to be humorous. He nodded his head and I sighed.

When he turned his back to lead me down the hallway, I did what I thought would please him—tied the little necklace-trinket around my neck. The last thing I wanted was to insult this guy, even though the thing was all kinds of morbid. Maybe I'd learn to like it. The wound was still too fresh, but I absolutely could not deny how thoughtful it was of him.

Before he could get too far ahead, I bent down to pick up my weapon and jogged after him.

The necklace bounced heavily against my sternum and I touched my fingers to it to keep it still. Despite the morbid reminder, I was a little honored. This was him telling me I wasn't bait, maybe not quite an equal, but I was _worth_ _something_.


	13. Serpentine

**Hello readers!**

**Somehow I managed to get this done on time. Ish. I wish I could say it's because I'm busy but I'm not so I have no excuse except laziness and Diablo 3 haha. **

**Hopefully my laziness can be overcome and I'll have the next chapter done for you on Wednesday! **

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Serpentine

The ship had fallen silent except for an ominous screaming somewhere in the bowels. It echoed through the corridors and raised the hair on the back of my neck. Something about it was familiar, but quite unlike the screeches I had become accustomed to. Something about it seemed angry.

But that was it as far as sounds were concerned.

Nothing stirred in the hallways. No drones, no chestbursters, not even a stray facehugger skittered along the ground.

"Where'd everything go? Did we kill them all?" I asked, allowing myself just a little bit of hope. After a while the bouncing of the weird trophy-necklace Wolf had made irritated me enough that I tucked it under my shirt, though it stretched the material slightly.

Wolf, however, made no indication that I was right or wrong.

Sighing, I just trudged after him with my weapon held the way he had showed me. It felt strange, but I was getting used to it. From time to time when I thought Wolf wasn't looking, I'd turn my wrist to a more natural, resting position, but he'd always turn and make to smack me for it. Made me wonder if he had eyes in the back of his head like my parents did.

I wasn't sure why it mattered so much. What did it matter _how_ I was holding it so long as I still hacked something apart?

Last thing I wanted was to make him mad, though, so I just did it anyway.

If it made me kill aliens better, then so be it.

He lead us expertly through the halls, me following along behind him. The first few twists and turns had me tense and ready for action, but the longer we went without seeing anything, the more I relaxed and the less jumpy I was.

But the further we travelled, the louder that strange screeching became. When it started to sound like it was right around the next corner, I became tense again. It was definitely louder, definitely sounded bigger, and kind of sounded a little _meaner_, if that was even possible. It might have just been my mind trying to psyche me out.

"What's the plan?" I whispered, taking a hold of my weapon with both hands and holding it close to my chest.

Wolf turned, then growled and pulled my hand by the wrist until I was back in position.

"Stop that!" I groaned, pulling away.

He chittered a sharp reprimand, and then he cuffed my ear with an open hand. It wasn't particularly painful, but entirely irritating.

I grunted and swung my arm into the right position. "Stop hitting me!"

There was another moment while we just stared at each other—well I glared, I had no real idea what he was doing with his face, if he had one—then he nodded his approval and turned away from me. Soon as his back was turned I waved my middle finger at him and thought about just running him through with the blade, but figured that wasn't in my best interest.

Well, I'd just have to focus all of that anger on the _other_ aliens on this ship.

"Do you even know where we're going?" I demanded instead.

Though he didn't look back at me, he just lifted his hand and motioned for me to keep walking. My shoulders slumped and I sighed. I'd just have to be patient, but I was running out of that. I was tired, every single part of my body hurt, and I was emotionally spent.

Just a little bit longer. Kill the queen and hopefully this whole thing would be over.

Though the longer I thought about it, the more I wondered what exactly that would mean for me. Could I go back to my life once this was over? Would I be able to just say "welp thanks for all the help, I'll be going now" and then walk back to Estes Park and go to sleep?

Would I be able to face _anyone_ once I was back? So far as I knew I was the only survivor. Would I find more, or was I really the last?

Besides all of that. . . would I be seen as a hero, or would I be I blamed for all of this? Would Jess and Michelle's parents hate me? Would the school hate me? I wasn't sure that I wanted to find out. The best thing I could hope for was dying in a blaze of glory.

Or. . .

No. That was probably out of the question.

Without realizing it, I'd spaced out. It wasn't until Wolf put up a hand and I ran into him that I snapped out of it. I glanced up sharply and looked around for the danger, but Wolf was standing stock still, staring down the hall.

"What—" He cut me off by holding his hand up again and I pursed my lips.

After a moment I realized that the screeching had stopped. Silence had fallen over this part of the ship, making my pulse sound like roars in my ear.

The nervousness returned and I started to lift the blade up to my chest, but when Wolf turned his head a few centimeters, as if to watch me, I blushed and held it in the right position—away from my body slightly, blade turned in for quick slicing.

Another brief moment and Wolf was leading us forward again. He extended his wrist blades and moved with calculated steps, slow and prepared. It made my heartbeat quicken.

He turned slightly to look at me, then indicated to a barely visible opening in the wall—a door. I leaned a little bit to see it better, then looked up at him and nodded. He turned away again, and this time he completely disappeared from view.

My stomach dropped to my feet and I glanced around. "Where—don't leave me." I was sickened with how pathetic I sounded.

From across the hall I saw a flash of light—it looked like a pair of eyes.

Wolf.

I sighed in relief and quietly inched toward the open door. The closer I got, the more I realized that it wasn't just a regular door, but a big bay door that lead to some sort of loading dock. It looked like it had been closed before, but something had broken through it. It was a small gap, big enough for a drone to get through, and that was probably it.

The big hole was broken inward—the drones had broken _into_ the room, but then how did anything get out of the ship to infect people with? How had that first Facehugger crawled out into the woods to infect whatever poor sap had stumbled upon the ship first?

Maybe it found a hole and squeezed through.

With the door not completely open, I felt a little safer inching toward the hole and peering inside. It was much darker in that room than any other, but I thought I saw shapes moving in the darkness. I squinted, but the light from in the hall was too bright to see into the shadows.

I straightened up and looked around for Wolf. "I can't see in there, are there lights?" I asked the empty air.

A few seconds later, just when I was about to question whether or not he was even still there, a dim light flickered on. It seemed there wasn't anything bright in this ship, and I wondered if his kind could see perfectly well in the dark and used the lights for something else.

But _I_ needed the light, and this dim red glow was only barely sufficient.

And when the lights illuminated that dark loading bay, I poked my head out around the wall and tried to soak in as much as I could before being spotted. "Thanks," I whispered quietly, hoping Wolf was close enough to hear.

Dead center in the room, a huge beast sat. It looked just like the hologram that Wolf had shown, with hide of pitch black. It was a lot larger than I had imagined, as was its grotesque egg sack. The egg sack was hooked up to some sort of shackle, and the eggs were deposited onto a rotating table. Occasionally a shock of electricity would make the egg sack contract, and out an egg would pop. Right now the table was full, but a drone came by and shuffled some of them away to a little pile they were making off in the corner.

There were _a lot_ of drones, too. Well, more than I'd seen together at any one point in time. Not quite a dozen, but maybe ten? They were all tending to piles of eggs. I thought they would have moved them all out to the nests, but maybe after I'd destroyed those two groups the queen had decided not to risk losing any more.

At first I didn't think she was awake, but then her large head swung and she snarled out some sort of command. She sat high up on the egg sack, her crown nearly touching the ceiling despite how tall it looked from where I was. The drones skittered around her, doing whatever she bade.

I pulled away from the opening and pressed myself up against the wall, my eyes wide. She was huge, and she was _hooked up_ to the ship. . . the room looked like it was made for her to be in there. I glanced around to see if I could see Wolf, but of course I couldn't. "You did this—on purpose? You landed this ship here and set them loose in my mountains so you could _hunt_?"

The fact that I hadn't put two and two together earlier made me angry. Sure it hadn't looked like the ship had crash landed, but it just hadn't ever crossed my mind. Maybe because I hadn't wanted it to.

He was invisible, though, so I couldn't see his reaction. Nor did he make any sounds.

"Your silence is incriminating," I muttered.

These monsters obviously needed a host to breed effectively, but why _us_? Why not some other planet with some other species? Surely there were other compatible hosts on other planets?

Right now that was the least of my problems. I took a deep breath and tried to push the thought out of my head. There would be no sense in getting angry about it because Wolf wouldn't care. He was a predator, I was just slightly above sheep, so he wasn't about to lose any sleep over _my _opinion.

Sighing, I leaned in to get a look inside the big room again, but just as I did the doors slid open with a heavy sliding sound. The bits of bent metal scraped against the floor and I pulled my head away, gasping quietly. I winced and recoiled away from the horrendous sound and flinched when sparks flew in my direction.

"A little warning would have been nice!" I hissed through clenched teeth.

He still didn't feel inclined to reveal himself and I wondered if I was supposed to be the bait again. I waited a few more seconds, then quickly dipped my head to take a quick peak. When I pulled back and wasn't immediately bombarded with screeches, I took a deeper breath and then leaned in to look proper.

Everything was turned to face the now-open door. I froze in place, mouth slightly open, and there were a few moments where we were all just staring at each other.

The queen's lips pulled back into a silent snarl. The muscles in my legs tensed and my fingers tightened their grip on my weapon's hilt. I started to back away, but something shoved me hard enough to make me stumble away from the wall and partly into the room.

My eyes widened and I turned toward the source, even though he was invisible. "You son of a bitch, why—"

Anything else I wanted to say was cut off by an outraged screech. It startled me and I jumped about ten feet in the air before I crouched down and held my weapon out. Apparently all of those times getting smacked upside the head had the effect Wolf had desired, because I fell almost instinctively into the correct pose.

Oh that's right. I was playing bait.

The drones swarmed, forming a little barricade in front of their queen. They screeched and squealed, but they didn't make a move immediately, just watched.

Until the Queen raised her head and gave a commanding snarl.

Then chaos broke out.

Under different circumstances I would have run for it. Every instinct I had was telling me to run, but I forced my legs to keep me rooted. I wasn't alone. At the very most I'd be dealing with maybe two of these things, right? No way he'd make me fight them all off on my own.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins and sent my heart racing. Blood roared in my ears and I lifted the weapon just a little bit, preparing for them.

A blue light flashed by my head. I could feel the heat and strands of my hair were disturbed by its passing. I blinked and stumbled to the side, ducking down instinctively. One of the front line aliens exploded in a spray of acid, but it didn't deter the rest of the drones. They leaped over the fallen, and two more shots rang through the air, decimating two more drones.

But that still left about seven and they were now too close to make them _explode_ without dousing either of us in acid.

Any they were on us.

Wolf had already dispelled his cloak and was next to me, his wrist blades extended. I tried to match his confident posture, but I was trembling. The first drone reached me and I swung, just how Wolf had shown me. It felt foreign, but it produced results. I cleaved the thing's head in two, but I wasn't fast enough to back-swing and catch the second one. It slammed directly into my side, driving the air from my lungs, and I was thrown across the floor.

Though I couldn't get into any sort of position to hack at it, and I was loathe to stab it like the last one that had burned a hole in my shoulder, I did the next best thing. I twisted myself around until I could move my arm freely and slammed the hilt of my blade against the creature's head. The hard chitin remained strong, but the blow was enough to send it reeling.

With its weight sort of lifted off of me, I turned on my back so I could kick the monster off of me with both of my legs. It screeched and tumbled away, already off-balance from the blow to the head.

Before I could stand, I saw another drone bearing down on me. I let out a frustrated sound and struck blindly, in terrible technique, and caught the drone across the chest with my blade. It staggered back, tail lashing and acid blood dripping from the wound. It gave me just enough time to get into a crouch, but only barely.

Both drones were already recovered. They screeched and advanced on me, driving me back a couple of steps. One lunged through the air while the other was slinking toward me on the ground. I tried to time the first drone's landing, then started swinging at it.

Something else hit it, driving it sideways through the air. It squealed in surprise and my blade cut through nothing but air. I backpedalled along the wall, gleaning a sense of security by having something at my back, and tried to look for the second drone. When I couldn't immediately find it, I started to panic. Another quick scan revealed that Wolf had a hold of it by the tail. He swung it around, slammed it into a drone in mid-leap, then killed both with one shot from his shoulder-mounted cannon.

So then what happened to—

A snapping sound caught my attention and I looked over sharply. Across the room a few yards there was a broken net and a bleeding alien. Not only was it bleeding from the gash in its chest, but a grid-pattern wound across its head also oozed some blood. Had that net. . . ? I didn't see how, maybe it was just made out of sharp wire or something.

I turned to check on Wolf, but he was locked in combat with the last two. As much I wanted to watch his fight, the checkered drone was coming for me. I widened my stance and waited for it to come, but a large black shape swiped it to the side and gave off a shrill cry.

Startled, I pressed myself against the wall and stared at the Queen as she bore down. One squeal, followed by another shriek, told me that Wolf finished off the other two drones, leaving the Queen and the checkered alien alone in that room of eggs. The last drone shrieked and circled around its queen's back, stalking like a tiger.

The Queen straightened and turned her body completely to face us, and Wolf edged closer to my side. Her tail swung in a wide arch, knocking over a piece of equipment. She stood erect like a t-rex, solid and lithe, and looked ten times scarier when she wasn't attached to her egg sack.

Her lips drew back to reveal shiny fangs, and then she roared an angry challenge and charged.


	14. Able to Fight

**Hello readers! **

**I got a head start with this chapter so I'm feeling pretty good about it! Hopefully you guys will, too uwu Be sure to check my author's page for a list of songs and even some trivia about the story! See you all on Monday with Chapter Thirteen!**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Able to Fight

Even with Wolf there next to me, it was still hard not to run from the behemoth charging at us. My legs jerked, trying to get me to move, but it was like being stuck in the headlights of a semi-truck. I couldn't move, even as she was close enough to trample me.

A strong hand gripped the collar of my shirt and yanked me to the side. The fabric was already compromised from the acid melting it, so it tore a little more when Wolf pulled on it.

At least it hadn't fallen off yet. It wasn't quite _that _destroyed.

I stumbled toward him, pulled slightly off of my feet, and the Queen charged passed us and slammed head-first into the open door. Pieces of the material crashed down on her, but she just backed up and shook off the debris, swinging her head around to find us.

Wolf spun me around and set me up straight on my feet. When he let go of me, I staggered to keep my balance, then took a breath.

Had to focus.

Life or death here.

The Queen turned her body toward us and we both had to jump back to avoid her dangerous tail as it arched through the air near us.

"What's the plan?" I asked, glancing at Wolf from the corner of my eyes.

His response was to cloak. I felt my jaw hit the floor and I turned, looking wildly around for him, but he was gone. I took a few fearful steps back, but I felt his hand grip my arm and steady me. He was with me. I only took a little bit of solace in that fact.

My breathing started to come more rapidly, close to hyperventilating. I knew I was bait, but did I really have to be bait _now_? Couldn't the Queen still tell he was around?

The air rippled as Wolf took off somewhere. At first I thought I would have to deal with the Queen alone, but she turned her head sharply to follow him, and then she stomped in the same direction, screeching in challenge.

So—wait—what now?

A weight was thrown into me and I screamed. The floor came up hard and I slammed into it, driving the air from my lungs. My head smacked hard onto the crust-covered floor and stars broke out into my vision.

The last drone—how could I have forgotten?

I fought to focus my mind and blink away the blurry vision. A headache had already exploded in my skull, making my pulse throb against my temples. Now was not the time though. I had to get up, had to get ready to fight—

Before I could get my weight onto my knees, something yanked on my ankle and I sprawled out on the ground again, slamming my shoulder into the ground to keep from landing on my chest. I was certain there was going to be a bruise there later, but just add it to the rest of the bruises and cuts and _burns_ that I had sustained. Then I was being dragged across the bumpy floor.

And my weapon was being left behind.

"No no no no no no!" I muttered, scrambling at the ground and reaching for the blade. It slipped out of arm's reach and the panic settled in.

But I couldn't panic. Not now. I grit my teeth and turned slightly, just enough to see the drone. It was dragging me over to some eggs, and I wondered if it meant to start the implanting process. I didn't have much time, so I flipped over and kicked at its hand until I landed a blow hard enough for it to recoil and let me go.

I got to my feet as fast as I could and made a bee-line for my weapon. Though I slipped a few times on wet slime, I kept moving forward. When it was within reach, I practically dove on top of it, but the checkered drone dove on top of me, too.

The weight forced me flat on the ground, but I had the blade. I fumbled with it, trying to grab the hilt, but the drone was scratching and screeching in my ears and I still couldn't concentrate.

When it started to drag me again, I grabbed any part of the weapon I could and swung backwards at an awkward angle. It caught the creature in the arm and cleaved it straight off, but the blade bit into my palm and I dropped it almost immediately, hissing through clenched teeth. As quickly as I dropped it, though, I scooped it back up by the hilt and tried to ignore the blood seeping down my wrist and the stinging pain.

Checkers hissed and squealed, pulling its stubby arm into its chest. I staggered to my feet, holding up my weapon, and waited for its move. Blood dripped copiously from the wound I'd made, and I wasn't very keen on getting anywhere near that.

It turned its head and bared its fangs at me, tail lashing behind it. As it inched closer, I moved back. A crash somewhere to my left startled me, and I looked away for just second when I heard a familiar roar. Wolf was squaring off with the Queen, arms up in a display of aggression. He had a myriad of new cuts and some discoloration in areas—probably bruises. The Queen had her back to me, but she had my comrade backed into a corner.

"Wolf!" I gasped, leaning forward to run to him.

However, Checkers screeched, demanding my attention, and lashed out at me with its tail. I turned my attention back to it and had barely enough time to recoil away from the barbed tail. I swung my blade at the same time, basically out of instinct, and jumped away when a chunk of tail skittered across the floor.

The drone screeched in pain and recoiled, giving me a chance to move in with my blade up. Chekcers turned its slick head in my direction and wailed, flinging its tail around. Blood arched through the air and I hit the ground, ducking under the blood and gasping. I wriggled to avoid any more splashes, but my pant leg started to hiss and smoke. I used the giant knife to cut the piece off and flung it as far as it would go, clenching my fist after accidentally touching part of it. My fingertips burned, but not near as bad as my shoulder had.

I rubbed my fingers on the ground, using the slime, trying to keep my head up and keep track of my opponent. Checkers seemed just as wary to approach me as I was it. Its nubbed tail was poised over its body, as if it had realized it could keep me away with just the threat of being sprayed with acid.

With neither of us wanting to get particularly close, we were at an impasse. I had to find some way to kill it, though, so I could go help Wolf. Every time I glanced in his direction, it seemed like they were evenly matched. He had managed somehow to get out of that corner, and the Queen looked like she was bleeding in a few spots.

At least she wasn't the only one getting in some shots.

My pulse was beating against my skull and chest, but the adrenaline kept me thinking at least semi-clearly. I edged around the drone, glancing around my surroundings. There had to be something I could use, anything. . . .

Mostly I wanted to call out to Wolf. I stopped myself several times, though I got so far as opening my mouth. He had his own problem. Bigger problems.

I could handle this drone. . . I just had to figure it out.

But how was I going to kill it if I couldn't get close to it? How did it expect to do the same?

For a brief moment I thought about throwing my weapon at it. Maybe I'd impale it and be done. However, I didn't trust myself not to miss and once disarmed, that would be the end of it. It just wasn't the kind of gamble I wanted to make.

We circled each other like two cats. One of us was just going to have to break the cycle. Why did I have the feeling it was going to be me?

Motivation came from across the room. Motivation or a distraction, I wasn't really sure. Wolf's roar echoed through the big room and I turned to look—Wolf was on the floor, but at least trying to get to his feet. The Queen was opposite him, about ten yards, and had his wrist blades stuck in her crown, torn straight out of his gauntlet. He wasn't unarmed, at least, with his large spear in hand.

But he needed his own distraction, and I was stuck here with this drone—

Screeching turned me back to my own fight. It startled me into taking a step backwards, and I saw Checkers coming at me. The thing knew I had been distracted, and it took its chance. I had enough time to fall on my ass before it was on top of me. I cried out and thrust my weapon upward, chipping off Checkers' shoulder spine, but it twisted and wrenched the blade from my hand.

It skittered across the ground, bouncing into a piece of machinery.

"Shit!"

The thing scraped its claws across my face and I cried out in pain, kicking wildly. I managed to land a lucky blow and sent the thing reeling, but before I could scramble to my feet and get to the weapon, it jumped on top of me again. Snarling, I groped around with one hand while using the other to push the drones head away from my face and came up with nothing but a handful of dried-up slime. I pulled the fistful of crust away from the ground, then shoved it hard into the drone's mouth.

Checkers reared back, scrabbling at its mouth with its one good hand. I slipped out from under it and sprinted toward my abandoned weapon. I knew that little stunt wasn't going to distract it for long—I could already hear its claws behind me—but I prayed it would be long enough.

I was within reach. I fell to my knees and picked it up. Just as soon as it was in my hand, I swung wildly back in an arch. Checkers screamed and I heard sliced flesh. Then I was on my feet, turned to face it. The drone had a new cut on his head, and he was backing up.

No more playing chicken. I lunged toward Checkers as it swung its tail, but by now the bleeding had stopped and nothing splashed at me. Putting all my weight into this one lunge, I drove the blade through the top of the drone's head, all the way up to the hilt. It slumped almost immediately and I crouched there on my knees, panting, still holding the blade.

There wasn't enough time in the world to catch my breath. The Queen was making a terrible cacophony of noises—not that she hadn't been this whole freaking time—and I frantically searched around for Wolf and the beast.

It didn't seem like they were making any progress. He was dodging her tail and leaping just out of the way of her head. It was like an awkward dance—one would make a move, the other would trot out of the way. She was missing a chunk of her crown, Wolf was bleeding from a deep puncture in his shoulder. I was glad that I had decided not to call out to him for help.

If I wanted to get out of here any time soon, though, I was going to have to do my job.

I looked around, then yanked the blade out of the ground. It took a few times with me throwing my entire weight into it, but eventually it pulled free and I stumbled back. I managed to stay on my feet and made a furtive run around the sides of the room.

For the eggs.

So far that had worked pretty well. If nothing else, at least I'd be doing God's work while destroying them.

At first I wasn't sure the most effective way of doing this, but then I decided it didn't have to be pretty. I started hacking, chopping, and slicing my way through the eggs, but when I didn't immediately hear an outraged scream from the Queen, I stopped in mid-chop and looked up to see what was so much more important than the mutilation of her offspring.

Wolf went sliding across the ground and I made a startled sound somewhere between a scream and being strangled. The Queen followed after him, snarling and I stood up a little straighter.

"Hey! Hey bitch!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, jumping up and down. She squealed and turned to face me, body heaving with the effort of coming to a sudden stop. Her unseeing head extended slightly and she bared her fangs at me.

I stared back, suddenly unsure of where I was going with this, partially frozen under her gaze.

So I just chopped another egg in half. Why stop now?

She reared back and let out a terrible cry of pain and anger that made me start violently. It was the kind of sound that filled me with dread. I had just made a terrible enemy—not that she wasn't already an enemy, but before it was just because I was _there. _Now I'd made her angry. Now I'd created some sort of grudge monster.

I stepped back and clutched my weapon—that suddenly felt tiny and useless in my hands—in a way that would have made Wolf smack me; both hands on the hilt, pressed against my chest in fear.

Her head swept right then left, as if taking in the rest of the eggs, and then she roared and charged me. My breath caught in my throat and I stumbled backwards. I wound up tripping over an egg and fell flat on my ass.

Every uncertainty I'd felt, every insecurity, played across my mind. What was I doing? I wasn't a fighter. I wasn't some sort of warrior. When I played soccer I wasn't on the front lines, I was in the back between some goal posts. It was nothing short of a miracle that I had lasted this long. How was I going to fight this thing off?

There was no way I was going to be able to do this.

Why was I even trying? Now I was just going to get eaten, or skewered. . . .

She stopped at the edge of the egg nest she'd created and stepped around them, somehow still managing to bear down on me with all the power of a train. I lifted my weapon and got ready to defend myself, drive it into her skull or something, but something snapped into view and wrapped around the Queen's arm. She was pulled into the ground and smashed into several of the eggs.

I had to leap to my feet and sprint out of the way to avoid being crashed into. Wolf was off to the side, holding a—was that a whip? He yanked on it hard and the Queen's arm came _clean off_. She screeched in pain and struggled to get up, meanwhile Wolf flourished the whip, then cracked it when she turned her head toward him, slicing a deep gouge in her exposed throat. I thought for sure that would be a fatal blow, but she was on her feet.

And she was angry.

The Queen's tail arched and she turned slightly to the side, fighting range with range. She lashed out to stab at Wolf, but he moved back and snapped the whip, making her draw it back with a fresh wound. If she hadn't swept it out of the way, he probably would have sliced it off.

For a brief moment I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing. He seemed to have the upper hand now, though I wondered why he didn't just end it quick with that shoulder-mounted cannon. A closer look revealed that it was missing. Had he lost it one of those times he was laid out? Did he abandon it for a more challenging fight?

I swept my gaze across the big room, looking for the weapon. I had to skulk around the edges, sticking close to the wall. The Queen made it hard to see as she darted around, avoiding the bite of Wolf's whip.

But then I spotted it, near the center of the room. The occasional sparks had brought my attention to it, and I was beginning to think that it was knocked off of him.

He had plenty opportunity to get to it, so why didn't he? The only thing I could think was that he wanted it this way. Maybe it would be too destructive, anyway. He wanted the Queen's head, so he was going to have to make sure it was _intact_ when he. . . did whatever.

Despite being absolutely terrified to the point of shaking, I still felt like there was something I should be doing to help. Part of me understood that this would have to be his fight, but surely there _something_ I could do? Cut off her tail, or distract her again. . . ? Could he kill her with just a whip? I didn't see his spear anywhere. . . did he lose that?

My fingers gripped the blade in my hand I glanced at it sharply. I could give him this. . . he'd lost his wrist blades in the Queen's crest, he'd need a slicing weapon.

There it was. My reason for existing.

Get this giant knife-sword to some alien warrior so he could chop the head off of an alien parasite. What a time to be alive.

Still, I grasped on to that little bit of meaning and my grip tightened not out of fear, but resolve. I stalked around the edge of the room, watching and waiting. Wolf continued to lash with the whip, and the Queen continued to sustain more and more wounds. Her gait faltered several times, and her head drooped. By the amount of smoke covering the floor, I figured she had lost quite a bit of blood. Wolf was bleeding from several spots, too, but not the copious amounts she was.

Now it was _her _backing up and trying to dodge lashes of the whip. I edged closer and closer until I was only a few feet away from Wolf. He had closed the gap between him and the Queen enough that each crack of his whip landed somewhere on his prey. She was curled and defensive, crying more than screeching. It was now or never.

"Wolf! Catch!"

He turned his head just a little bit and I did my best to toss my blade in a way he could catch it. It soared in a little arch, and at first I thought it was going to land way short, but Wolf rolled to intercept and caught it by the hilt.

The Queen turned her head toward me and I stepped back, but I had moved within her range. She squealed and lashed out with her tail, barely missing me with the spike by a few inches. The thickest part of her tail caught me in the ribs and I was thrown almost across the room, landing on the floor in a heap. The breath was knocked clean out of my lungs and I wheezed painfully, doubled over.

Recovery was a luxury I wasn't allowed quite yet, though, and I forced myself to roll and see what happened, forced myself to my knees. I kept my arms warpped over my abdomen, coughing, but I needed to see if I'd helped at all.

Wolf rolled back up to his feet and as the Queen turned her attention back to him, he spun with all the grace of a weird muscular dancer, slashing with the knife in a whirl of movements. At first I thought he'd missed, but in the time it took me to blink and wheeze in some air, the Queen twisted and fell to the floor. The force of impact made her head pop right off.

I dry heaved a little bit, but stumbled to my feet and staggered toward Wolf, holding my abdomen and still gasping. The pain was starting to subside, so I didn't think she'd broken a rib, but it would probably be bruised later.

At this point I wouldn't have been surprised if I was just one giant bruise.

"Good—kill," I said around one last cough.

He took one last look at the dead Queen, then turned to me and set his hand on my shoulder, giving it a little shake. I felt my brains knock around in my head a little bit, then glowered and stood on my toes to shove his own shoulder. For some reason he seemed _satisfied_ with that and motioned toward the drone I'd killed.

"Good kill," he repeated, though it took me a moment to realize that was what he'd said.

In his own voice.

It was rough and gravely, like the words were hard on his throat, and the mask muffled the sound, but I was certain I wasn't mistaken. It surprised me and I stared at him for a second, mouth open. I didn't think he could actually speak the language, but the fact that he was giving it a shot to give me commendation was a nice gesture. Just like the necklace.

"Oh—ah, thanks," I replied, pulling the necklace out from my shirt as I thought about it, looking it over for any damage. It wouldn't particularly tear me up if it was, but it seemed okay. One of the teeth had nicked my chest and I was bleeding, but that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. My once-gray shirt was now a muddled black-brown-red, and I had to keep adjusting the shoulder to keep it up.

Nodding, he turned to his wrist gauntlet and punched in a few notes. A display popped up that I couldn't hope to understand. He ran through a few things, and then the display disappeared just as quickly. I wanted to ask, but I figured the answer would be too complicated to pantomime.

"What now?" I asked instead, figuring that one would be easy to show.

Soon as the words were out of my mouth, the ship started to rumble and vibrate. I looked around frantically, but Wolf seemed unperturbed by it. He pulled some rope or something like a rope from the large metal pack he had strapped to his back and moved toward the decapitated head.

I wasn't going to think much about it, but then the ship started to shake. The movement caught me off-guard and I stumbled to keep my balance. "Okay what the hell?" I demanded.

All he did was glance at me before pulling the blades from the Queen's crown. He jammed them back into his gauntlet—I'd originally thought they'd broken off, but apparently that wasn't the case—and then tied a rope around the Queen's thick crown and strapped it up to him so he could drag it behind him.

"Wolf!" I snarled when the ship shook once more. Then, I started to feel that strange sensation when you're on an elevator going up. . . .

Was the ship _taking off_?


	15. An Opened Door

**Hello readers!**

**I'd like to give a little shout-out to Citrine Nebulae for helping me out with this chapter. You da real MVP! If you guys get the chance, head on over to her page and check out the AVP fanfic she started! It's called _Alkaline_. **

**Anyway! I'll get the next chapter up for you on Saturday! At least I hope so, I had an increase of hours at work, but I'll do my best!**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

An Opened Door

"Wolf what the _fuck_ is going on?" I demanded, holding my arms out at my sides to keep my balance.

Finally the ship stopped shaking and I could stand without compensating for balance, and I could hear a muffled roar coming from all around us. Engines? Some sort of propulsion system? Were we hovering or had takeoff just smoothed out?

All he did was glance at me, then motioned for me to follow.

I thought about _not_ doing that, but figured I'd let him lead me this far, I might as well trust his judgment on whatever this was. But I couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive—was he really going to just take off like that, right after the kill? With me still _on board? _I wished he could, or would, just tell me what was going on instead of leaving me in the dark.

Wolf heaved the ropes over his shoulder and then took off at a leisurely jog. Well, maybe not quite _leisurely_, as he was lugging a giant head behind him. I watched his back for a second, then took off after him out the door and through the halls.

The very thought of going up to space with this alien made my head spin with a plethora of emotions. Fear, apprehension, maybe even anticipation. Something about not going home not only made my stomach churn, but it also felt. . .kind of right.

That meant not having to face Jess' parents. Or Michelle's.

Or my own.

It meant not having to deal with the consequences of everything that happened. Not right away, anyway. I could forget about it, throw myself into whatever adventure I was getting into.

But I couldn't get ahead of myself. I didn't know what was going on. He might have just been relocating the ship. He might have just been getting it ready for takeoff and then was going to kick me off his ship.

The only way to find out would be to follow him.

I wasn't sure which scenario I was hoping for most.

Watching the decapitated Queen head bounce and jitter made me a little queasy, but I pushed the feeling down and focused on the back of Wolf's head instead.

We only made a couple turns and then he opened up a big door and slipped inside. I ended up having to help shove the stupid head through the small gap, and that thing was still slick with all kinds of slime. Touching it made my skin crawl and my hair stand on end. Her head crest was the main issue, as it was just a little wider than the door was. It took a lot of shifting and shoving and pulling, but we got the head through.

"What are we _doing_?" I demanded. My legs felt like jello and it was taking every ounce of strength left in my body to keep me upright.

He never even so much as glanced at me and just stopped for a moment to pull up his wrist display. After punching in a few commands, a large door slid open and I was greeted with gray, pre-dawn sky and a blast of cold, fresh air.

After the door opened fully, Wolf dragged the head over and pushed it in front of the edge. I followed him over to the opening and peered over the side. The ship didn't seem to be ascending any further, just hovering over the ground about twenty feet. Below us I could see heat waves coming from underneath the ship from the propulsion system.

Suddenly I felt very about Wolf literally kicking me off the ship, so I stepped back a few paces.

Lucky for me he didn't. Instead, he stood at the very edge and unstrapped the Queen's head from around his shoulders. Wolf lifted one foot, planted it on the side of the head, then kicked it off. I couldn't hear it hit the ground over the turbines, so I once again looked over the side to see if it was okay. It didn't look broken, and now I was thoroughly confused.

The ship was certainly taking off, but we weren't going to be on it?

"What—"

I didn't even get a chance to finish the question before he was leaping over the side without a moment's hesitation. I gasped and scurried to the door to watch him, but he landed without a problem, despite the slight incline of the hill the ship had landed on, and he showed no outward signs of pain.

And there I was, stuck on the ship by myself.

He turned and looked up at me, motioning for me to come on down. I felt the color drain from my face and I stepped back, shaking my head. There was no way I could make that jump. It certainly wasn't high enough to kill me, but even I knew it wasn't going to feel good.

I moved back to the edge of the ship and shook my head. "Put the ship down and I'll come out!" I shouted down at him, trying hard to be heard over the engines.

Wolf motioned again for me to come down. I wasn't even sure if he'd heard me.

If he was trying to speak, I certainly couldn't hear him, either.

At that moment, the ship shuddered. It definitely wanted to take off, and I had a feeling that if Wolf didn't want to be on the ship, then I certainly didn't either.

Maybe he'd catch me.

There was no other way I was going to make it out of that jump without hurting myself, so that had to be it. He made it look so easy, maybe I was just making a bigger issue out of this than I should have been. The same jump hadn't hurt him, so why was I freaking out? Maybe I could dangle from the edge and make the drop shorter. . .

No, no I had to clear the engines. If I just dangled I might burn myself or something. I didn't want that either. Maybe I'd just have to suck it up. He'd catch me, probably. The hill was making me worry about how I'd land, too.

I took a deep, irritated breath, and shook my head.

"Alright I'm. . .coming. . . Christ almighty," I muttered, backing up a bit. Before I could talk myself out of it, I took the few quick steps needed to bring me to the edge, and then I jumped for it.

There were a few things I realized as soon as I was over open air: twenty feet was a ridiculous amount of space when you were no longer on solid ground; I didn't know how to land—don't lock your knees, that was about the extent of my knowledge; and Wolf wasn't paying attention.

No, he was gathering up the ropes attached to the Queen's head, and that was probably the most prominent thought on my mind right then.

He was _not_ going to catch me.

Oh.

. . . _shit._

I flailed my arms in circles, probably attempting to fly, but the ground came up quick. I was going to land all wrong. Though I bent my knees to cushion the impact, I didn't know how to land. How to turn that momentum into a roll or—what angle—shit lean forward—no, lean back?—bend your knees—

This wasn't going to—

_Snap!_

Soon as I hit the ground I knew it was all over. My legs gave out and pain shot all the way up my spine. I collapsed in a heap, my ears ringing, and tumbled part way down the hill. I knew my mouth was open, and I knew I was screaming, but all I could hear was the ring in my ears. My vision blurred and I felt close to throwing up.

Finally I stopped rolling at least when part of the hill leveled out just enough to slow my progress. I could barely move, my body seized with pain and tense to the point of hurting. It took all I had to glance at my legs to see the extent.

Blood was soaking my pant legs, a few inches above my knee. There was a tear in the fabric, and the pain was immeasurable. My breath came in shuddering gasps.

I reached out for my legs, mouth agape and a strangled noise gurgling in my throat. I was vaguely aware of Wolf running to my side, chittering rapidly, but the world turned into mush. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and then darkness swallowed me.

*:･ﾟ✧

It felt as if I had only blinked, but I knew I had been out for a little bit. I wasn't sure how long, but it was long enough that the sky had started to turn from dark gray into light pink. I no longer felt queasy, but there was a definite pain in my legs that made my whole body throb with each beat of my heart. At least my endorphins had finally kicked it.

At least the pain wasn't intense enough to make me black out again.

I was no longer on my side, instead rolled over onto my back. Part of me was pretty sure I hadn't done that, but I decided not to think about it and just sat up slowly. The pant legs around my knees were colored a muddy-red and my breath hitched. Tentatively, my teeth clenched so tight it hurt, I pulled at the tears and tilted my head to try to look at my leg through the hole. It was impossible, though, because the tear was too small and the lighting was too nonexistent.

But I knew they were broken, and that tear in my jeans. . .it made me think that they might have broken the skin.

That wasn't something I wanted to think about. Or see. Or deal with.

Maybe, though, if it was a compound fracture of that variety, Wolf had done some first aid and popped the bones back into place. What bone? The—femur, I thought.

Where was that bastard, anyway?

"Wolf?" I called warily, afraid he'd just left me alone to be found. Eventually. Maybe.

Part of me didn't want to see him. He'd fucking let me fall.

A distant boom made me duck instinctively and cover my head. Just that small motion sent a sharp jolt of pain through my body and I hissed through my teeth. I twisted at the hips to look around, then finally turned my gaze skyward when I didn't see anything in my line of vision.

What I saw was the aftermath of a huge explosion high in the sky, quarter sized. I didn't even see any parts or debris falling to the ground—just a puff of smoke and some embers.

For a moment I wasn't sure what I was looking at, then it dawned on me—the ship. Had he made it fly off so he could. . .blow it up? What did that accomplish? Was that ship really just so useless now that all it had was eggs and bodies and alien shit—oh. That's right. The Queen was dead, so wasn't that nest probably completely useless?

Maybe this was just the easiest way to dispose of a few dozen eggs in a useless hive. And the evidence of the ship ever existing in the first place. . . .

So why hadn't he left _me_ on that ship? I was a witness, so by all means he should have wanted me dead. Or—maybe it was just the technology and the bodies that needed to be disposed of. I'd obviously proven myself in some way, shape, or form, so maybe it was wrong for me to think that he'd just dispose of me like that.

So surely that meant he wouldn't just. . .ditch me in the forest with two broken legs.

"Wolf?" I called again, a little louder.

When there was no answer, I started feeling a little anxious. I didn't dare move, but I didn't think I could stay where I was, either, because I was too exposed on that empty hill without a jacket. The sun coming up wasn't making the air any warmer and my shirt was torn. I was already shivering, and I wrapped my arms around me in an attempt to stay warm.

At the very least, maybe the cold was helping to numb the pain.

The longer I waited for Wolf, the more anxious I became: how did I know he was even going to come back _at all_?

I took a few rapid breaths and mentally prepared myself for the next step—seeing if I could stand. It took several more deep breaths to steel my nerves, and then I tried to heave myself up just a little bit, just enough to bend my legs and get them underneath me.

Just the effort of flexing those muscles caused stars to erupt in my vision.

My teeth gnashed and I bit back a scream. I gave up that particular endeavor and settled back onto the ground, panting. Tears started to fall down my cheeks and I fought to stay conscious.

Now I didn't know what to do. I couldn't get up, that was for sure. I turned and tried to flip over onto my stomach so I could maybe crawl up the hill, but that hurt way too much, too. My wrist hurt, but that felt more like a sprain than anything else. Then I tried to maybe scoot on my butt down the hill, but that still required too much movement in my legs.

How did those paralyzed people _do_ it?

Instead, I leaned back into a lying position and covered my face with my hand. I tried hard to suppress the sobs, but a few escaped while I choked on my tears. After all of this, I was disabled by a fall. I was going to be done in a by a couple of broken bones.

Alone in the woods, freezing to death.

After a moment I took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to pull myself together. Someone had to come looking and—

My phone!

I sat up straight, sending another jolt of pain up my spine, and fished around for my cell phone. I had completely forgotten about it, and now it was going to keep me from dragging my sorry ass across the mountain to find home.

There it was, the familiar weight in my back pocket. I grunted and grit my teeth in pain as I shifted to pull it out between violent shivers, but it would be worth it when—

Cracked screen.

That's okay, just the screen. People had cracked screens all the time. I stared at it a moment, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then hit the button to turn it on.

Small slivers between cracked glass lit up, but for the most part it remained black and broken.

Something inside me broke and I yelled incoherently, tossing the phone as far as I could throw it. I pressed both of my hands against the sides of my head and continued to scream like an indignant child, then picked up anything that was within arm's reach and threw those, too—rocks, handfuls of dirt, weeds, sticks—nothing was safe from my wrath.

The only thing missing was a good ol' tantrum thrashing, but moving even enough to throw things was kicking my ass in the pain department.

I fell on my back hard enough for my vision to blur at the edges and I scrunched up my face, chest heaving in a strangled cry. I remained like that for a while, staring up at the slowly lightening winter sky. I tried hard to stop crying, to calm down, but it was proving difficult.

If I could just chill out long enough to think this through, I'd be okay.

At least it wasn't snowing.

A familiar masked face popped up into my vision and I started violently, racking my body with spasms of pain. I shouted and curled in, trembling and panting.

Wolf chittered an admonishment and kneeled by me, pulling my shoulder and turning me so I was on my back. I gasped and reached out for my legs with both hands, fingers shaking. They hovered uncertainly for a few moments, and then I just let them fall back to my lap.

"Why didn't you fucking catch me!" I hissed through clenched teeth. I rounded on him and lashed out with a closed fist, trying to hit any part of him I could reach.

It was easy for him to dodge the blow with a single step and he lifted his hands, palms out, and clicked rapidly in his funny little language. I understood it to be some sort of quick apology, or explanation, but that didn't help. I tried again to smack him, but just hurt myself a little bit more.

Now I was in more pain _and_ breathless, but no closer to getting any semblance of vengeance for this outrage. I waited until the throbbing stopped and then sat back up, glowering at my lap. "Whatever," I said, resigned. Wolf tilted his head to the side and rattled quietly, then approached me when I didn't continue to lash out. He kneeled back down next to me to look over my legs.

I turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. "I'd thought you left me for dead."

Wolf glanced at me, murmured something, then gripped my upper arm and started to stand, pulling me with him.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, grabbing his thick arm with both hands.

His response was another little encouraging rattle and he pulled me upward. My first instinct was to get my feet under me, but the tiniest little twitch made me gasp. "No—no I can't—"

My dead weight didn't seem to be a bother for him, even with one arm. He pulled me up and my feet dragged on the ground, making me cringe and writhe. "Stop! Stop!" I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.

When he hesitated, I almost sobbed in relief and tried to pry myself out of his grasp, but he held me tight. "They're _broken_! I can't _stand_! Please! _Please_!"

For a moment he just made a decisive clicking noise, then rumbled in his chest like an annoyed dog and gently set me back on the ground. I couldn't bring myself to let go of him, though, as if terrified that he'd actually leave me if I let him go.

Once I gained control of my breathing—as much as the cold-induced spasms would allow—I looked up at him and swallowed hard. "They need to be set. . .I'll need a splint. . . "

A rumble vibrated in his chest and he maneuvered behind me. In one fluid motion, faster than I could comprehend, he leaned forward, wrapped an arm around my midsection, and pulled me of off the ground, holding me in the crook of his arm against his side. I couldn't help the strangled screech that slipped past my lips, but he managed to do the whole thing without causing me too much undo pain.

And by "too much" I mean I didn't pass out.

I hung there, limp in his arms, legs and arms dangling. My feet barely scraped the ground as he carried me like a sack up that hill and into the forest. Every movement made me cringe just a little bit, but once we got up onto flat ground, things were easier.

Despite the small bit of comfort I felt from the heat he gave off, I felt completely undignified and a little humiliated, and I made a point of looking anywhere but at him as he carried me into the woods.


	16. One of Them

**Hello readers!**

**I just wanted to let y'all know that I have a busy week ahead of me at work so I don't know if I'll be able to get chapter fifteen up by Thursday, but I'll do my best. I also gotta work on the chapter for _Better Days_, so don't be alarmed if I don't post up the next chapter on time.**

**Big thanks to Citrine for being my editor again! You were more than a _little _help! **

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

One of them

Being carried by the midsection wasn't a comfortable process, though it was certainly easier on my legs. I squirmed so much that Wolf nearly dropped me a couple times, but eventually he lugged me to the part of the forest that he'd dragged the queen's head. It was just sitting there in front of a big empty space, but there was something unnatural about that empty air.

The weeds and sticks were pressed flat and a few trees had been completely cleared away. I figured there had to be something there, probably utilizing the weird cloaking technology they had. Maybe another ship, but it was small. How small I couldn't tell without actually seeing the thing.

Wolf kicked away some rocks and sticks in a small patch on the ground and then bent his knees, lowering me down. I extended my arms until my palms were against the ground and could support some of my weight. Wolf chittered a warning, and then let me slide forward. I wasn't completely ready for it, though, and my sprained wrist buckled under my weight. Just barely I was able to turn and fall on my shoulder instead of my face.

"Son of a—you trying to break the rest of me?" I snarled into my arm, glancing back at him as he let my legs slip from his grasp and fall semi-gently to the ground.

It still made my teeth grind, but it was better than being completely dropped from where he'd been holding me. I was prone now, but I turned until I was in a sitting position with my legs stretched in front of me and I just glowered at him.

He cocked his head to the side, as if wondering why the hell I was upset.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh yeah sure, I get it. My _face _isn't what's broken, right?"

For another moment he stared back at me, then his chest heaved and he turned toward his trophy head. I figured I should probably lay off him a bit—he seemed to be getting kind of exasperated and I didn't really want him to get irritated with me.

Who knew what he'd do.

Though the wind wasn't so bad now that we were no longer in the open, it didn't make it any warmer. I curled up the best I could with my legs and wrapped my arms around myself, shivering, and I tried to figure out what Wolf was up to with that queen's head.

Through the trees I could hear a distant buzzing, but I wasn't sure what it was. A hum? The wind whistling in the branches? It didn't seem to bother Wolf, though, and after a few minutes where it seemed to get louder, it stopped. Maybe just a ringing in my ears, or one of them forest sounds.

Wolf nudged the queen's head with his foot and then grabbed her fanned crest, rocking it to the side. In the light that thing was even more hideous with its slime-shine and strange biomechanical exoskeleton. Standing next to it, even Wolf was a slightly dwarfed, the effect doubled when he wasn't swathed in shadow and mystery like when I'd first run into him.

It didn't make him any less intimidating with his very alien, scaled green skin and strange armor. Just not as big.

He lifted his wrist after examining the queen's skull, pressed a few commands on the control pad, and then the air shimmered. With a crackle of electricity, his ship rippled into view—easily the size of a small ranch house. It looked like a smaller version of the one we'd spent most of the night in; very knife-like, but without the two side engines. It stood on the ground with three legs.

"What are you going to do with that?" I asked, looking around and rubbing my arms.

His response was incoherent at best, but I was starting to pick up on how he separated syllables. Plus, the growls and clicks were starting to sound more and more like an actual language. I attributed most of the unintelligible gibber to the mask he wore: it had to muffle a lot of what he was trying to say. I sighed, wondering why I bothered, but figured that silence would be worse.

"Well it's cold so whatever you're doing, hurry it up before I freeze to death," I said between teeth-shattering shivers.

He glanced at me and then pulled out one of his smaller blades, then crouched down and coated the tip in the Queen's acid blood. I tilted my head slightly, brow furrowed.

That didn't look like skinning.

"What are you doing?" I asked, leaning back as he approached me with that blade. I wondered if his weapons were made specifically to fight this species, or if they were just generally resistant to certain kinds of damage.

When he crouched down in front of me, holding out the acid-covered knife, I leaned way back and eyed him warily. He seemed to notice and stopped to watch me for a second, as if absorbing the uneasy way I was looking at him. He straightened his back after a brief moment of consideration and then lifted a hand to unplug some of the tubes from his mask.

That small gesture made my stomach twist as I realized he was removing the mask. I'd only known him for a short time but he'd always had that mask on, so I wasn't sure what I should expect. I found myself trembling—not just from the cold—as he fit his palm over his mask and popped it off.

My breath hitched and I felt my fingernails cut into my palm as I waited.

I wasn't sure what I had been expecting when he took that mask off. His whole body structure was functionally humanoid despite the rough skin and strange blotchy coloration, so I might have been expecting the same of his face, but I was surprised.

_Unpleasantly_.

He had a large, sloping forehead ridged with small, black spines and beady—almost human-shaped—eyes set deep into a large brow. He had no nose, but the most striking feature was the four insect- or crab-like tusked mandibles set over an open mouth lined with sharp teeth. The dreadlock-like appendages attached to his head fanned out from just underneath the spines lining his head.

In hindsight I shouldn't have been expecting a human-like face, but most alien movies I'd seen depicted aliens as bald little green or grey men with big eyes and bulbous heads, but Wolf didn't look anything like _that, _either. He was much. . .scarier.

I felt myself recoil from him slightly, but I had to remind myself that I probably didn't look like a spring chicken to him, either.

Wolf held his mask out to me and I looked from it to him and then back again before tentatively taking it from his hands. It was a heavier than the blade he'd loaned me and I had to hold it with both hands. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be looking at—the deep cracks or the strange scribbles? It looked really mad and I wasn't sure if that was on purpose or just one of those things that _was_.

A series of rattles made me look up from the mask at Wolf. It was startling how clear the syllables were now that the mask was off. I could almost make out the phrase, or word: khu'wei. It was hard to replicate, but it sounded slightly familiar, like he'd said it to me a few times.

My hand tapped the side of the mask and I looked around uneasily, but my gaze always fell to that knife. "What?"

He used his free hand to tug at the chest plate covering half of his chest—the hell kind of design was that? Was it over his heart or something? I guessed that kind of made sense—and indicated toward a scar close to where his clavicle was. It looked like a bone similar to a collar bone, anyway.

I looked at him, confused, then leaned in for a closer look. It certainly wasn't just a random scar, instead it kind of looked like one of the symbols on his helmet. The mark was slightly bigger than a silver dollar and made up of three shapes, one like a sideways V, a second one like an exclamation point tipped on its side without the dot, and the third underneath those two was kind of like an apostrophe.

"So?" I asked, looking up at him and leaning back again.

First he motioned to the mark, then let his chest plate fall back in place and lifted the knife again. I furrowed my brow and stared at it, trying to connect the dots and keep myself warm at the same time. He obviously wanted to do the same thing to me, but I couldn't figure out why he had to do it with a knife dipped in acid. Wasn't just a plain old _sharp edge_ good enough?

Having that stuff drip on me before had been horrendous, I wasn't sure I wanted him to carve a tattoo into me with it. But—it wasn't just acid, was it? It was the blood of the queen. Maybe that was the connection. Maybe it was some sort of. . .warrior marking or something?

Or maybe he was trying to brand me as his property.

I didn't fucking know.

"Is this because of the kill?" I asked, sounding more wary than I had wanted to. I'd been going for reserved curiosity but instead sounded just plain skeptical. I wasn't even sure if he understood.

However, he nodded.

Though I was sort of suspicious, I figured this alien didn't really gain anything by lying to me. If he wanted anything out of me he'd just use his plethora of muscles to do it, not trick me. I eyed the knife again for a bit, then nodded and straightened up and brushed aside the neck of my shirt, assuming he was going to put it in the same spot.

He hesitated just a moment, as if gauging my resolve. I tried my best to stop shaking, but I was cold and only getting colder, and his gaze was fierce and predatory without trying to be. It was making me uneasy. At the very least the pain in my legs had subsided to a dull ache thanks to the cold, but I knew the shivering was going to make this hurt more and maybe botch it, like how you were supposed to hold very still for a tattoo.

Finally he leaned in. I closed my eyes and held my breath all in an attempt to keep myself from shivering. When the tip of the acid-covered knife touched me, I couldn't help but jump from pain and surprise. I balled my hands into fists and willed myself to be still, though it made my whole body tense and my legs ache.

I had survived an alien hive of parasitic monsters. I could survive a silly acid tattoo.

The whole process only took a few seconds and then I was releasing my held breath with a shudder. I had to resist the urge to scratch my chest, afraid that it would ruin whatever work he'd done. I tried to look at the scar that was undoubtedly there, but all I could see was a red blotch.

Eh, my neck could only bend so far.

Though I wasn't sure what to say or do in response, I felt like I needed to say something. Words failed me, though, as I looked up at Wolf. He didn't seem bothered by it and just inclined his head and closed his eyes.

Was that—respect?

I drew in a breath and reciprocated the gesture, which seemed to please him.

"What does that mean, by the way?" I asked before he could stand. I was back to shivering. "That. . .word. Um. Kuwee?"

His chest rumbled in that familiar laugh of his and he pointed at me. "Khu'wei."

Me? I tilted my head and touched my fingertips to my chest. "Is that. . .your name for me? Like how I call you Wolf?"

Could he even understand me Eithout his mask on? I had thought that he'd required the translator. . .if it even had one. He'd obviously dealt with humans before, but to what extent? Did he just understand my curiosity from the tone of my voice and the horrible way I butchered his language?

He pointed at himself. "Sha'ktil-ar." His name. It was much more clear without the mask on like when he'd first introduced himself. Maybe he didn't understand me completely, but he understood enough to try to explain the word. He pointed at me again and repeated the same word, or name, confirming my thoughts. "Khu'wei."

Though I wanted to know what it meant, it was enough to know it was how he identified me. I figured that would be hard for him to explain, anyway, and if it was some silly name like "puny human" then I didn't want to know.

Instead, I just did my best to parrot him, though his name included a strange click I didn't think I could make. "Chalk. . .ilar." It felt foreign on my tongue and I was embarrassed at the bad attempt. "Kuway?"

Again he just chuckled at my horrid accent, then set his heavy hand on top of my head. I glowered and pulled my head out from under his hand. He chortled and stood up, took the mask from me, then left me to sit by myself in order to deal with his trophy. Fine then, I would just continue calling him Wolf until he made me stop.

A shiver seized my body and was so intense I felt it in my ribcage. "Please hurry. I'm cold."

Wolf glanced at me, his mask now back on his face, then stood up and gathered the ropes attached to the queen's head. He heaved it over his shoulder and dragged it up the ship's ramp and into the darkness. I watched warily, hoping that he would be coming back for me.

What exactly I wanted wasn't clear to me—did I want him to come back for me because I didn't want to sit in the cold by myself, or because I wanted to go with him?

My fingers were starting to feel numb and I breathed into my palms to warm them up. Sitting in the cold by myself with broken legs certainly wasn't something I wanted. The beds of my fingernails were turning purple-blue and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and try to retain some body heat, but every time I tried it sent white-hot bolts of pain to my brain. Sitting with my legs straight out wasn't particularly comfortable, but if I tried to get into a more comfortable position all I did was hurt myself.

Being on that ship was better than freezing to death, even if it was going to be a permanent arrangement.

The woods rustled off to my left and I glanced back to look, but tried to keep one eye on the ship for when Wolf came back. He'd only been missing a couple minutes, but it still made me wonder how long he was going to make me sit out in the cold.

Like an asshole.

Honestly how long did it take him to drag that giant head through the ship?

It didn't seem like there was much to see in the woods, but when I looked away the bushes shook again and I peered into them, trying to see if some stupid squirrel was getting brave, but I thought it was too cold for squirrels, especially this early in the morning. It had to only be like seven in the morning, so I didn't think it was any sort of hiker, either. . . .

Maybe a snake or an elk. This park was well known for its elk population, but I couldn't imagine they'd wonder this close to something as strange as Wolf's ship.

I watched that same spot for several seconds, then started to turn my head toward the sound of footsteps. "It's about time. I'm freezing my ass—" A gloved hand clamped down on my mouth and I thrashed in surprise, my scream muffled.

"Shh, it's okay, we're gonna get you outta here."

Eyes wide, I tried the best I could to look up at a person swathed in some strange camo outfit. It didn't quite look military, but I wasn't sure what else it could be, and it didn't look like your normal gear, either: too thick.

"Where is it?" he asked, removing his hand when I lifted my own to pull it off. "Did it hurt you?"

All I could do was stare at him in disbelief. Where had he come from? Were there more? A quick scan around revealed other shadowy men lurking around to form a perimeter. My mouth hung open and I resisted his attempts to pull me up.

"Miss—miss it's okay. What's wrong—oh shit." He must have noticed my broken legs, or at least realized that they were hurt. He put a hand to his head, probably an earpiece, but the helmet he wore hid it from my sight. "Legs are injured, possible break. She's freezing cold, has lacerations and burns all over. . . ."

I checked out of his conversation. Rescue—the rescue I'd been hoping for. But it was technically too late and I didn't even _need _rescuing anymore. I didn't _want_ to be rescued. I should have been overjoyed to see these people. They were going to take me home, back to town, back to my family.

Back to a school where all my friends were dead, where I'd broken the one rule we'd all been given: don't go out into the woods until the military says it's safe.

Would Wolf even let them—oh no.

In my mind's eye I saw it. Wolf strapped to some cold gurney, probably dead with his ribcage broken open so they could poke at his insides and see what made him tick. We'd have his technology which meant so much for our science, for our advancement as a species. . .but could I do that to Wolf? I had no doubt that he'd be able to fight these guys off—if he hadn't just spent a whole night fighting and getting injured.

He was outnumbered, maybe outgunned with his shoulder-cannon gone. . . .

No. I didn't want that.

Maybe he was an asshole sometimes, but he'd saved my life. There was no denying that. When he could have left me to die, he took me under his wing and not only protected me, but gave me the means to protect myself.

"Wuh—"

The man hooked his arms underneath mine and started to pull me backwards, but immediately stopped when I winced and arched my back in pain. "Ah, shit—sorry. You'll be alright. We'll get you fixed up. Is it in the ship?"

No—no I wasn't going to let them have him.

"Wolf!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

Mr. Military stopped short, looking around. He probably thought I was talking about an actual wolf. Joke's on him.

"Wolf! Wolf _get out of here_!" I shouted. "You have to leave!"

"Miss, it's going to be okay! There's no wolf, I don't understand," Mr. Military demanded, looking around frantically for this phantom wolf I was shouting about. He thought I was talking to him, or maybe just refused to believe that I was talking to the thing he was trying to save me from.

He hadn't let go of me and I struggled against him, but I was in no shape to get out of his grasp and even just trying to shrug out of his arms and dig my heels in was causing spots to pepper my vision.

A voice from the shadows. "In the ship! There it is!"

My eyes widened and I lashed my arms around to throw off my would-be rescuer. I saw Wolf, saw him jog down the ramp. As soon as he was clear of the door they opened fire and I screamed. "No! _No_! Stop it!"

The bullets ricocheted off the hull of the ship, off his sparse armor. A few hit true, but at the most he just seemed taken by surprise and irritated.

His masked head turned toward me and I heard him roar, watched him crouch into his familiar stance, arms out in a display of threat. I shook my head, terrified that he wouldn't win this fight. I was only slightly sure he'd intended to take me with him, but that scared me just as much as going home did.

However, if going home meant he'd leave in one piece, I could live with that.

"Just _go_!" I demanded, flinging my arm to punctuate my point.

"We're gonna get out of here, calm down!" My rescuer heaved me up and tossed me over his shoulder fireman style, causing me to gasp. Pain lanced all the way up to my midsection, causing my vision to blur. Even the sounds of gunfire seemed muffled, like I had been dunked in a vat of water.

I successfully fought off the darkness. "Go," I whispered, pleaded.

Wolf stood, hesitating. I silently willed him to disappear into his ship, each bullet that met its target almost hurting me physically. Each one made him flinch and back further into the ship.

He turned at last, dreadlocks arching, and disappeared into his ship. His arm swung up to bury his nose—figuratively speaking—into his wrist com. The ramp up to his ship closed up as the military soldiers closed in, and then the engines roared to life, warding them off again.

The trees started to close in and I tried to keep my head up, tried to make sure he was leaving. I heard the muffled sound of turbines whirring, and then I followed the ship as it lifted into the sky. They continued to shoot at it, but it was futile: it shot toward the atmosphere with dizzying speed. Branches made it difficult to track, but I kept trying until I heard the approach of helicopters.

Helicopters—the buzzing and humming I'd heard earlier.

How could I have not known?

They would have come to look for the missing troops. They would have seen the ship explode. The moment we made it out, we'd had a time limit. And time was up.

Now he was gone and I was being carried away. The helicopters couldn't hope to keep up with the ship, though they were trying hard. I thought I heard the sound of gunfire high in the sky, but I couldn't be sure. I slumped against my rescuer and closed my eyes.

Part of me—the selfish, scared part—wished he'd tried a little harder, but the majority was relieved. Relieved that he had gotten his trophy and left without hurting himself over it. Relieved that he'd left without me.

Relieved that I was going back to the home I knew.

And terrified by what that meant for me.


	17. Torn Away

**Hello readers!**

**Somehow I made it! Sorry the chapter's a little short, but there's not a whole lot going on!**

**Next update is due Tuesday, but I have a busy weekend at work. I'll do my best though, like I did this week! **

**I really appreciate every review I get, but I would just like to remind everyone that I have a set schedule for updates, so there's no need to ask me to update. :) Every five days like clockwork, I promise!**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

Torn Away

"What happened to her? How did she get these wounds?"

"I'm not allowed to discuss that with you. Just get her stable until _our_ doctors can get here!"

"How am I supposed to treat her if we don't know the causes?"

"That's your _job_, lady!"

The nurse pushing my gurney shot a sour look at Mr. Military. Or. . .what had he said his name was? Mendes? Martinez? Something ending in an –es. I felt like it was Mendes, but I didn't care enough to remember his name completely. He'd insisted on tagging along, probably to make sure I didn't say anything about aliens. He told the nurses it was because he was concerned, but I knew.

He just didn't want me to tell anyone about what I'd been through.

I stared at the ceiling, counting the fluorescent lights as they passed by overhead. The nurse leaned into my line of sight and I focused on her face. Smiling, comforting. Probably no older than my mother. The tension in my body left just looking at her.

"Sweetie how did you break your legs?" she asked, glancing at Mendes.

Another nurse at my left lifted my arm to take my blood pressure on the run. Seventeen lights had passed by now.

"Good luck," Mendes snorted. "She hasn't said a single word since we picked her up."

Without turning my head, I looked over for Mendes. He was running alongside the nurse, eyes on me. Watching, waiting for me to give up information I wasn't supposed to give up. We held eye contact for a little bit, me glaring and him daring me to talk.

Well fuck him.

_I_ wanted to get better, and I figured I could give out bits and pieces of the picture.

"I jumped from really high," I said. "Landed wrong."

She nodded and we shoved passed two doors. The helicopter Mendes had put me on took me to Estes Park Medical Center, but none of it looked familiar from a stretcher. I'd been in the ER once when I'd broken my arm, but otherwise I really hadn't spent much time at the hospital, and I couldn't see much besides the ceiling: for some reason they'd decided I need a neck brace.

_Just in case_.

"The burn on your back, sweetie?"

"You don't need to worry about that," Mendes interjected.

I shot him a look and turned back to the nurse. "It was acid. I neutralized it already."

Mendes gave me a warning glare, but I looked away from him. All I had to do was not tell her it that the acid came from inside an alien, right? I wanted to get treated _now_, not _later_ whenever his doctor with the right level of security clearance bothered to show up.

My nurse seemed to notice the look and pat my shoulder. "We're gonna get you cleaned up and then take you to x-ray, okay?"

They pushed me into a room and, with the combined effort of the nurses, lifted my stretcher off the gurney and onto a real hospital bed, then they slipped it out from under me. Thanks to the wonderful thing called morphine, I barely felt a thing.

*:･ﾟ✧

A man in a doctor's coat leaned over me with a small light, shining it in my eyes. Everything seemed to be happening so fast, but I came to realize that I was slipping in and out of consciousness due to exhaustion and pain killers. Had I already had my x-rays? No I didn't think so. . .it just seemed to be a few minutes in the time gaps, nothing more.

"Hello, my name is Doctor Jacobs. I know a specialist is coming to see you, but there are some things that just can't wait. I need you to remember some colors for me, okay?"

"Yeah," I muttered, nodding.

He glanced over his little clipboard and prattled off the colors. "White, purple, green, black."

I closed my eyes to commit them to memory. The last thing I needed was to fail a concussion test when I didn't even have one. He probably should have done this _before_ they gave me painkillers, but who was I to complain? I'd been in quite a bit of pain after being tossed around on a helicopter. That whole ride had been a blur, but I remembered how much they stressed not talking about the alien ship.

About Wolf.

"Alright I'll ask you for them in a little bit. Do you know your name?" he asked. He was sitting on the edge of my bed.

Somehow I managed to think through the fog of drugs, then nodded. "Nichole."

"Do you have a last name, Nichole?" he asked, taking my pulse.

That was a little harder, but I pulled it out after a deep breath. "Nichole Shain."

Jacobs turned to look at someone I couldn't see and jotted a few notes down in his clipboard. "Do you know what day it is?"

Oh jeez I wasn't good at this on a _normal _day when my life _wasn't _in danger. What day was it? I'd been at school earlier yesterday. . .it wasn't the weekend. . . "Is it. . .Thursday?" It was more of a question than an answer.

The doctor nodded his head and smiled. It made his whole face move. "Yes. Do you remember those colors I asked you about earlier?"

I pursed my lips and thought about that briefly. "White, purple, black. . .and green?"

"Very good. Once an x-ray room opens up, we'll have a look at your legs. I'd give you more information, but I don't want to upset you until we have all the facts. In the meantime, I'm going to have some nurses cut you out of your clothes and get you into a gown, is that okay?"

My eyes immediately moved to Mendes. "You gonna watch?"

He rolled his eyes and stormed out the door. "I'm going to be right outside," he said before disappearing. His voice made it sound like he was trying to be comforting, but I could tell from the look he gave me that it was a threat.

Why was he so worried? What was I going to do, tell the doctors here that I'd been fighting aliens all night? They'd definitely think I had a concussion, or that I was reacting funny to the meds.

No, his precious little secret was safe.

*:･ﾟ✧

Having my x-rays done was the only thing familiar going on. It only took a couple people to move me to the table, then they put the lead vests down so I wouldn't get radiation poisoning. They checked my spine, too, but finally took off my neck brace when I threw a fit about having to wear it, and after Mendes confirmed that I had been fine when he found me.

The whole process took about twenty minutes, and then I was carted down to a wash room while those were being processed.

I was still covered head to toe in crusted-over alien spit, caked-on blood, and just various types of dirt and grime. The burn on my back especially needed to be washed, as did all of the cuts and the open wounds on my legs.

Everything was at a risk for infection.

Whatever they washed me with _burned_. Even through the pain killers. It made my skin red and itchy, and I had to be restrained a couple times to keep from scratching the wounds raw.

But after all was said and done, I was given my own room instead of a bed with the rest of the ER patients. I had a feeling that was Mendes' handiwork. Maybe to keep my from talking, maybe to keep the other patients from being curious. . . I thought maybe it was to keep any alien pathogens from being passed along, but so far no one had been wearing masks or those silly bio-safety outfits.

"My wrist hurts, too, but I think I just sprained it," I announced while the nice nurse from before—Jaime, she said her name was—stitched up the now-clean bite wound on my shoulder.

The funny staples Wolf had given me had been removed, but Mendes had told the nurse not to ask about them and had them bagged. He'd pocketed them somewhere on his person, but I wondered what kind of information they hoped to glean out of alien staples.

She glanced at me, then nodded. "Alright I'll look at it in just one second, sweetie."

I nodded in return and settled into my bed, trying not to look at my legs. Just as I'd feared, the bone had punctured the skin there. They'd done their best to set it, but the Doctor Jacobs had told me I'd probably need surgery.

Mendes insisted his "specialist" take care of it.

Jaime cut the suture and set down the equipment. "Okay, which wrist is it?"

"This one," I murmured, lifting the wrist in question. It had some discoloration, but nowhere near the amount of bruising on my legs or other parts of my body, and was only slightly swollen.

Very carefully she took my wrist in her gloved hands and massaged it gently, looking up from the tops of her eyes to gauge my reactions. When the pressure didn't do anything, she bent my wrist and manipulated my fingers until I winced.

"Definitely not broken, like you said probably just a bad sprain. I'll go get you a brace for it, okay? Will you be alright on your own?" she asked, glancing pointedly at Mendes.

I glanced at him too, then smiled faintly. "Yeah I'll be alright."

Nurse Jaime lingered a moment longer, looking torn, then nodded and left the room. The door clicked shut behind her and Mendes unfolded his arms from over his chest and approached my bed. My entire body tensed, making my muscles ache and stiches strain.

"You, uh, still in any pain?" he asked, not meeting my gaze.

My eyes narrowed. This wasn't his usual confident self. I guess he could handle being bossy but not comforting.

"Just a little. What do you care?"

He looked down at me finally and sniffed. "Just because I can't have you talking to anyone yet doesn't mean I want you in pain."

"Well I'm fine," I harrumphed.

For a moment he stood by my bed, then he cleared his throat. I looked up at him, brows knit together, waiting for him to speak.

"Is there anyone else out there we should be looking for? Other survivors, maybe?"

I turned my head so he wouldn't see my eyes water. Wouldn't see my lip quiver. When I was certain that my voice wouldn't betray me, I said, "You know there aren't. Not unless there are some people who got away when. . .when we were grabbed."

Mendes shook his head. "We've already spoken to the ones who made it out of the woods."

My neck popped when I turned too fast to look at him. "How many?"

"Twelve. We're still trying to discern how many more are missing, but not everyone's noticed their kids haven't made it to school," he said. His smile might have meant to be comforting, but it just looked like a smirk to me.

It took a couple seconds for that to sink in. Twelve of us had gotten away. Had never been grabbed or forced on that ship. They'd been the ones with a head start, or the ones fate, luck, whatever, had smiled down on. They were living, breathing proof that that the old adage was right. That there was safety in numbers.

So what was I living proof of?

Part of me knew what he was doing here, right now. He was warming me up, getting my gums flapping so he could ask all of the question I'd avoided on the ride over.

And he proved my point with his next question.

"Was it the alien you were with when we found you? Did it take all of you?"

"No," I answered—too quickly. His eyebrows quirked and I looked away from him. "No."

Now he had his prey in sight. "What was it doing there then? Why were you with it?"

My lips thinned into a line and I refused to look at him. He reached out, making me flinch, and pulled on the neck of my gown. "What is this mark it gave you?"

I looked up at him defiantly and held eye contact. "I don't know. Maybe he was going to take me with him and make me his bride. Maybe this is like their version of a wedding ring," I hissed through clenched teeth. Mendes recognized my sarcasm, but let go of me anyway.

Glaring at him, I shrugged the neckline back into place and rubbed the mark in question. The nurses had offered to put a bandage on it, but I'd told them it didn't hurt enough to warrant one.

He opened his mouth to say more, but as soon as he did the door swung open. Mendes closed his mouth and turned to look at the door, then stood up straight and backed up. I couldn't see it very well from where I sat, but I didn't need to. Whoever entered spoke as soon as the door was open wide enough and a pit formed in my stomach.

"Nichole? Nichole!"

The tears came before I could stop them. I didn't even care that Mendes was there to see me. If my legs weren't broken and if I was getting fluids intravenously, I would have stumbled from the bed. As it was, though, I couldn't move. I lifted my arms and choked back a sob.

"Momma!"

She came around the corner and practically collapsed on top of me. Her arms engulfed me and I embraced her. She was already in tears and I let myself break down. There was no reason for me to be brave anymore. The danger was gone, my parents were here to be brave for me. I felt my dad sit down next to us and I groped with my good hand for him until I felt his calloused digits squeeze my own. My mom babbled incoherently through her tears.

For the first time in the past several hours, I allowed myself to feel vulnerable.


	18. Through the Fears

**Hello readers!**

**I'm terrible sorry I made you guys wait, I've been absolutely exhausted lately and I'm not really sure why. Maybe it has something to do with not having a day off for the past seven days but who knows. I just hope this chapter isn't too boring, but we are nearing the end of this fanfic (I don't actually know how much longer, maybe four or five more chapters) so not a whole lot more action, sorry!**

**I didn't have this beta'd this time around, so hopefully there aren't too many mistakes!**

**Anyway, I know some of you have been wondering and I keep forgetting to mention it, but Wolf was hunting the queen so he could become an Elite. This is all so he can eventually become an adjudicator and play his part in AVP:R. More on that later maybe though.**

**Pssst it's also Citrine Nebulae's birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!**

**The next chapter is supposed to be due on Monday, but I unfortunately cannot make that promise because I'm getting MARRIED~! 333 I'll still try to get it out to you soon!**

**~ Crayola **

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Chapter Sixteen

Through the Fears

". . .start surgery in the morning. In the meantime she'll. . ."

So what if I wasn't dead? Maybe I had survived that alien hive, but that didn't change the fact that my life wasn't about to get any easier. In fact, quite the opposite.

". . .eight weeks, just to be sure."

Mom squeezed my hand reassuringly, but I didn't look up from my broken legs. From the newest source of anguish. My mom was seated next to me and my dad was standing at her shoulder, his hand resting on my extra-thick pillow.

"How much will all of this cost? Will our insurance handle most of it?" Dad asked.

Mendes'—or the government's—doctor had finally arrived about an hour after I'd been settled into my private room. She looked about as tired as I felt, but the lines under her eyes and thin lips told me she always looked like that. Her graying red hair was drawn up in a ponytail so tight that I thought her scalp was going to split open. She told us her name was Allison Kendrick, and she always had her hands in the pockets of her white doctor's coat.

"The government is going to be paying for everything, Mr. Shain, you needn't worry. Surgery, hospital costs, physical therapy, even her counseling."

"Why's that?" my mom asked. "Not that I'm complaining."

Dr. Kendrick shifted uneasily, giving me the chance to mutter, under my breath, "In exchange for my silence."

"What, honey?"

I shook my head. "Nothing, Mom."

"It's the government's way of apologizing for this accident. The man who was here earlier can probably tell you more," Dr. Kendrick explained. Or deflected, rather.

"Will she need to be transferred to a government facility?" asked my dad.

_Please say no, please say no. . . _

"No," said Dr. Kendrick with a shake of her head. She took one of her hands out of her pocket long enough to scratch her collar bone. "We can all do it right here so she's close to home, that way she doesn't have to stay at a facility until she's better."

Oh thank the lord, I didn't want to go anywhere but _home_.

"Doesn't that put you out?" my mom asked.

"I'll be fine. It's Nichole's comfort we're worried about. Now," Dr. Kendrick said, stepping away from the door. "I'm sure that the nice man outside will want to have a word with you two, and I'd like a couple minutes to talk with my patient alone."

"Why?" I closed my eyes and sighed at my mom's agitation.

The doctor glanced at me and took a breath. "I need to go over some sensitive subjects with her and usually its easier if the parents aren't present."

Like the subject of aliens.

"What? No!" Mom's protest made me roll my eyes. She grabbed my arm with her other hand.

"Tamara. . . ," my dad warned.

"No! I just got her back! I'm not leaving my baby!"

Just ignore the fact that they probably didn't know I went missing until it was time to drive me to school. Or when they received the phone call that I was found. Whichever had come first.

Again I rolled my eyes and tried to shrug out of her grasp. "I'll be fine, Mom, really."

She looked at me for a moment, torn. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mom. It's only going to be a few minutes."

For a moment all she did was stare at me, but eventually dragged herself to her feet. "I'll be right outside the door. Just yell if you need me, okay?" I nodded, but she still busied herself for a couple of precious seconds by readjusting the fox plush she'd brought me from home. It was one I'd purchased on a visit to the Denver Zoo a few years ago.

"Mom," I groaned.

Finally, with a huff, she tore herself away from my bedside and let my dad escort her out of the room. Dr. Kendrick waited a few heartbeats after the door closed, then took a seat next to my bed in one of the plush chairs.

I didn't look at her. "Am I really never going to play soccer again?"

Dr. Kendrick took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. "I'm afraid so, Ms. Shain. Chances are you'll walk with a limp in your left leg for the rest of your life, too." At least she was honest.

Eyes closed, I leaned my head against my pillow.

"Did anything happen after you broke them? That could have made the injury worse, I mean?" she asked, reaching for the clipboard off of the end of my bed. A pen magically appeared from somewhere within in her coat. "There seems to be a bit more damage than there should have been."

"Not that I. . . ." Well, actually, a lot had happened. "Oh, uh, I was carried into the woods. . .put back down. . .then that guy found me—Mendes. He pulled be back a ways from the ship—"

"Pulled?" Dr. Kendrick interrupted, raising her brows.

"Yeah, like. . .dragged me. Just a bit, though. . .then he stopped when he realized my legs were hurt." I was surprised at how defensive I sounded on his behalf.

The doctor stared at me for a second, then heaved a heavy sigh and scratched the spot above her eyebrow. "Yeah. . .that would have done it." She shook her head and scribbled a note on my clipboard, her eyebrows arched high on her face. I felt a strange urge to defend Mendes. I kept my mouth shut instead.

Silence fell between us, then I glanced around and said, "Where's that necklace you guys found on me?"

"I wouldn't know," she replied, looking up at me from the tops of her eyes. "If you tell me what it looks like I could try to have it found and returned to you. Why did they even take it from you in the first place?"

"Um. . .well I don't know I guess probably because. . .it had a skull on it and some teeth," I muttered, wringing my hands.

The doctor put the clipboard down on her lap, brows knit together. "Like what kind?"

I shifted the way I was sitting and stared down at my lap. "The alien kind."

That information caught her off guard and she leaned back slightly. "How on Earth did you get something like that?"

"It was a gift." Maybe one I didn't fully appreciate but a gift all the same. I would have liked it back. Wolf went through all of that trouble and now the government had it and I wasn't even sure if they were going to ever give it back.

Probably not. They probably wanted to run tests on it and map genomes so they could clone it or something stupid.

Dr. Kendrick sighed and shook her head. "Then you probably won't get it back."

"Oh," I muttered. "I thought not."

Surprisingly enough she didn't ask anything further about it. Instead, she asked a few more general questions about my health, like allergies and current medication I was on, but I knew that couldn't have been the only questions she wanted to ask. I didn't know why she was avoiding it so thoroughly even though I'd brought up the aliens by now.

"Ask me," I demanded.

She finished her scribbling and glanced up at me. "Ask you what?"

I shot her a deadpan stare and it took her another moment to figure out what I meant. She finally nodded and looked down at the chart. "Ah. . .yes. Well, first I'd like to ask about your burn. Acid, was it? How did you get an acid burn?"

"It was their blood. It was, uh. . .corrosive. Like acid."

"Interesting defense mechanism," Dr. Kendrick hummed, more to herself than to me. She scrawled a few more notes. "We'll have an artist come down some time and you can tell them what they looked like, okay?"

Dredging up memories of those horrible aliens was extremely unappealing, but I understood the need for it. "My phone is out on the hill near where I was found. I recorded some of what I saw, but the phone's toast. You guys can still get the information and the recording off it though, right?" They should have had the technology.

"Oh, yes." She sounded distracted. "I will let them know. Did you sustain most of your injuries by fighting off these creatures?"

Sighing, I leaned against the hand that wasn't in a brace and blinked slowly at my doctor. "Let's not pretend they aren't aliens. We both know I was trapped in a spaceship all night." I'd meant to sound crisp and biting, but just sounded tired.

Dr. Kendrick smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm sorry. Were you hurt fighting off the aliens?"

"Yeah. But I did break my legs jumping off the ship when it took off."

"Why did it take off?"

Despite myself, I narrowed my eyes and hunched my shoulders. "Why are you asking and not some scary government agent? And why aren't you asking about the other alien?"

She set the clipboard down on her lap and folded her hands on top of it. "You'll probably be interrogated later, actually. . . I was just asking out of curiosity about the ship. I'd also like to know about that mark and why you got a skull necklace as a gift, but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Otherwise, I'm just here to inquire about your health, not your experience."

Oh great, so I was going to get the third degree from Mulder and Skully eventually.

"However," she continued. "that probably won't be for a little while, until you can start your PR or your counseling."

"Why's that?"

"Well, they technically aren't allowed to question you without your parents present because you're still a minor. So, they'll probably sneak in to your PT so they can. . .circumvent the rules." Her face scrunched into a grimace.

Lips pursed, I nodded. "Can't let my mom and dad know about the aliens."

"Exactly. Either that or they'll disguise their interrogation as a therapy session. You'll obviously need to see someone to deal with the trauma and it'll be good for your healing, too."

That news perked me up a little bit, but I remained guarded. "Will the same privacy laws apply there? Will I be able to tell this therapist whatever I want and they won't be able to report back to the government?"

My doctor nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Unless the information you give her is a threat to national security, your health or someone else's, probably."

This news pleased me, but I wasn't sure I felt like it was my place to talk about Wolf no matter how much I really needed to. Maybe it wouldn't quite be betraying him if I spoke to someone who wasn't going to be relaying all of it to the government. I doubted I had enough information to help them track him down, anyway, but I felt like I was going to be a tattle-tale.

"And until then?"

"Until then you can get some sleep and focus on healing," she stated matter-of-factly, getting to her feet. "Once you get out of surgery and before you leave the hospital, someone will be in to go over your cover story."

I felt the color drain from my face. "What do you mean?"

Dr. Kendrick took one last look at my clipboard, took the top sheet with her notes and tucked them into her pocket, then hooked the chart to the end of my bed and let it dangle. "I mean what you're going to tell the press, what you're going to tell your family and your school mates. I'm sure my employers are crafting a nice story for you right now."

Oh. Right. Can't go around shouting about aliens, could I?

"The press?"

Her warm expression faded into something grave and she looked away from me. "You are the only person to come out of that forest alive who saw what really happened. The others we've talked to only saw shadows and mistook them for wolves or cougars."

_Mountain lions,_ I silently corrected. Though technically both were right.

"You, on the other hand, were missing the entire night along with a couple dozen others. The media will be all over you."

Just what I always wanted.

I couldn't help but think that if Michelle were here instead of me, she would have been pretty happy to hear that.

"Get some rest now, Ms. Shain. You've earned it," she bade, smiling at me. I smiled back and she turned toward the door. My parents piled in after her and as the door shut, I heard her reprimanding poor Mendes about the manner in which he had handled me.

*:･ﾟ✧

No amount of preparation would have been enough for that ride to the operating room.

Dr. Kendrick and the surgeon commissioned had gone over the procedure with me and my parents a little more than an hour before the surgery. It might have made my parents feel better, but I hadn't been able to pay attention at all: I still hadn't slept.

Sure I'd had all day and night to sleep before the surgery, but it didn't happen. I'd eaten, I'd closed my eyes, I might have even dozed off a few times, but it never stuck.

All I saw when I shut my eyes were monsters black as night and teeth that tore and ripped. All I remembered when I tried to empty my mind was the terrified faces of my friends when Jess died, when that cop gunned them down. All I imagined while I lied there and thought was their parents glaring at, shouting at, and blaming me.

The only time I'd finally managed to get a little rest was because Dr. Kendrick had agreed to give me a sedative to help me relax.

Even then it hadn't felt like real rest.

At the very least, though, I hadn't dreamed. I didn't think I could handle the nightmares that would no doubt come.

In fact, I didn't think I would ever be able to handle the nightmares.

"How are you feeling, Nichole?" the nurse pushing my gurney asked. She was already wearing her mask so I couldn't see her face, but I hoped it was the ER nurse from before. That lady was nice.

I nodded and took a cleansing breath. "Nervous."

"Don't be." I could tell she was smiling from the way her cheeks rose. "It's a very simple procedure and should be done quickly."

Right, no reason to be nervous. Or scared. I was disappointed in how frightened I was so soon after the incident. I'd battled through alien hordes and impressed a galactic warrior enough to be considered his comrade, but this surgery? The thought twisted my stomach up into knots.

Wolf would have been so disappointed.

Where was he, anyway? A billion light years away? He probably already forgot all about me, the tiny human who he used as bait. Sure at the end I was more than just bait, but I still couldn't help but think that I was just a blip in his usual schedule. Maybe he was out having some great victory ceremony to commemorate his promotion to. . .whatever he was being promoted to for having a Queen mounted over his mantle.

Would I have been present at that hypothetical ceremony if I'd gone with him? If I'd been able to just get my ass up and _walk_ onto the ship with him? Would he have been able to fix my legs on his ship? Maybe even better than this hospital would?

The lights overhead passed with a monotonous drone and I picked up counting them again.

One. Two. Three.

It was hard to imagine what life would have been like out in space. Would he have trained me to be a better fighter? Maybe he would have just kept me on the ship as his personal hunting dog, pet, or bait. Or decoration. Part of me longed to know, but most of me was pretty glad that the government operatives had shown up when they did.

I didn't belong in space.

_Humans_ didn't belong in space. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Here at least I felt pretty safe. My parents were here, waiting in the waiting room for me. There were no more aliens to fight off, and maybe I could go back to a normal life. Sans effective legs.

My mom had had that stuffed fox in her arms the last time I'd seen her—I felt like she needed it more than I did. Even my siblings had come to see me, though I knew they both probably would have preferred to be elsewhere.

When they came to visit me, I'd learned that my sister had almost gone into those woods, too. Her saving grace was that she'd arrived a couple hours after I did, when the initial wave was running out of the woods screaming about monsters and people getting eaten. She'd turned and fled. I was relieved beyond words to hear that: I wouldn't have known to look for her on that ship.

And she would have died with the rest of them.

At least my brother was too young to have even known about the ship. He was only in elementary school, so all we told him was that I had been in an accident and wouldn't be able to do anything for a long while.

Including soccer.

That killed me the most. It was my only activity besides school, something I enjoyed and participated in since I had learned to walk. At least that was how it seemed. Now it was gone and I had a long life of doing nothing but minor exercises to keep from getting fat and lazy. Wolf probably wouldn't even want me on his team anymore.

I was useless now.

Probably would be forever.

A permanent limp? Maybe I'd get lucky and the surgery would go super awesome well and I could just bypass that whole threat. If Wolf had managed to drag me into space, maybe I wouldn't have had to worry about that at all.

Even if I didn't have that limp, I would probably still be gimped. No way my legs were going to be in pristine condition again.

But a girl could hope. Maybe I was just being cynical.

Thirteen lights since I'd started counting. Doors opened in front of me and I was pushed into a bright room with a lot of scary-looking equipment. The nurses transferred me to the operating table and another masked man leaned over me with a plastic gas mask—the anaesthetician. "Alright Ms. Shain, I'm going to put you under for the operation. Just relax."

That was easier said than done.

He slipped the mask over my mouth and nose. There was a faint hiss from somewhere close by and the air I was breathing started to feel. . . different, somehow.

"Just breathe normally."

I did my best and my vision started to get a little hazy. People were talking around me but I couldn't hear so well. My eyelids were feeling heavy and I couldn't keep them up. The only thought I had was how much I didn't want this.

But I _could_ do this. The mark on my chest was testament to my resolve.

My eyes closed and I let the drugs take me away.


	19. Tomorrow Came

**Hello readers!**

**Managed to get this out on time (unless you're two hours ahead of me, in which case sorry). There were some. . .unfortunate circumstances that made it hard to get married today, so we're going tomorrow instead (we're not having a big ceremony, just a little one at the courthouse, we'll have a bigger wedding somewhere along the line) so I managed to get this chapter up. **

**This might go on a little bit longer, but probably not too much into the 20s. I don't want the story to get stale since there's not going to be a whole lot going on. Just let me know what you guys think, if there's anything in particular you want to see Nichole do, etc etc. I'll try to work it in if I like the idea. **

**Thanks for all of the reviews and all of the support you all have given me! I read each and every one, even if I don't really respond to them. uwu **

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

Tomorrow Came

All I had to do was remember the story the government had concocted. It would be easy: I basically had to tell a vague version of the truth and just replace aliens with terrorists. Easy peasy. Most of the story would be spun by my designated government agents—Agent and Rawlins and Agent Cooper. All I had to do was answer questions after it was done.

Not even my own parents had asked yet, so I hadn't even needed to tell them the fake story. It seemed they were too busy worrying about whether or not they were going to upset me.

Or maybe they'd already been given the version that was public-safe. I was just glad that they had been so supportive instead of angry. It was like they had decided I had been punished enough that grounding me or taking away privileges would be redundant.

I mean really, what was left for them to take away from me?

For the next six and a half weeks I was confined to a wheelchair so it wasn't like I was going to be able to _do_ anything. All of my friends were dead so it wasn't like I could _hang out_ with anyone. If I was lucky, and if I behaved and let my bones heal, I might get out of the wheelchair early.

Dad walked behind me, pushing me along. Mom was next to me, holding that stupid fox plush. I still didn't know why she'd picked that stuffed animal, the thing had just been sitting on a shelf gathering dust. I was finally in some real clothes, too—a blue long-sleeve shirt under a fur-lined brown coat my mom had in the back of her closet, and some sweat pants that fit over my leg braces.

That was the one great thing about where the breaks in my femur bones were: braces instead of a cast. I was too old to be in one of those ass casts, so pins were plenty enough to keep the pieces together. I would be an invalid for a while, but all I needed was the plastic, _removable_ braces to keep the needles and rods from snagging on anything and tearing my skin. Besides the occasional check-up to make sure they were healing correctly, I'd just need to make sure the entry points weren't getting infected and I was keeping them clean.

Six weeks was still six weeks, though, and being confined to a wheelchair or the house was going to be pretty rough.

"Don't say anything to anyone, just go straight to your car," Agent Rawlins said. He was a beast of a man, maybe not as tall as Wolf but almost as muscular, with dark enough skin that he was something of a novelty in our small city.

He and his partner, a gangly Jim Carrey-esque man, were escorting us through the hospital. "We're going to hold a press conference later in the week so the vultures can wait until then."

My mom picked and threaded her fingers through my hair nervously despite how many times I swatted her away with my hand. "What about when we get home? I don't want them bombarding us every time we leave the house!"

"We'll try to keep them away from your home, but I can't really guarantee anything," Agent Cooper sighed.

Agent Rawlins grunted and rolled his shoulders. "We'll throw around words like 'national security' and 'Patriot Act' and we should be able to pull together some reason to keep them away from you. I'm sure the press conference will satisfy them enough to make them go away."

"How?" my dad asked.

"We'll go over that with you after you've settled in, probably a day before the conference. For now, just take your daughter home and bring her to therapy tomorrow," Agent Cooper suggested with a furtive glance in my direction.

I glowered into my lap and sighed inwardly. "Therapy", right. More like "interrogation."

The door loomed closer and I felt my muscles turn rigid in my seat. Even from where I was I could see the people hanging out by the door. "Can't we go out the back?"

"Unfortunately there is no back."

Great.

At least I wouldn't have to talk. For now. I wasn't in the mood to be _seen_ let alone talk in front of whoever the hell was out there waiting.

Not when I was covered in bandages and when my bruises were still fresh and swollen. Not when I hadn't had a real shower or a decent night's sleep for the past few days. Not when all of the mental wounds were still fresh.

Sunlight blinded me for a brief moment as my dad wheeled me out of the hospital. There weren't nearly as many reporters as I had been expecting, but there _was_ a crowd of people and some cameras. Parents that I recognized, some that I didn't.

They were all in an uproar when they spotted me and the agents.

"Where's my son? Did he—?"

"What happened—?"

"Can you tell everyone listening how—?"

"Is she really the only—?"

"I haven't seen my daughter, is—?"

I turned my head away and brought my closed fists to my chest, curling into a ball to make myself as small as possible. Maybe I'd disappear.

Agent Rawlings lifted his hand and pushed a camera that got too close away. "You'll have a chance to ask your questions when we make an official announcement. In the time being, we ask that you respect this very brave young lady while she recovers from the horrors she's gone through and her family by staying away from them until then."

More and more questions were shouted toward us and the police there did their best to hold the line while I was pushed to my dad's Pathfinder that they'd let us park at the front. I kept my head down and let my mom hold my hand.

Some of the voices I recognized, but most of them were just a jumbled mixture of everyone hollering and throwing questions at the same time.

Between clenching my eyes shut and humming the theme song from _The Lion King_ to distract myself, we reached the car. I was startled when my dad scooped me up and set me down in the back seat, but I settled in and buckled up while he closed the door.

The two agents and a nurse helped him figure out how to collapse the wheelchair so it would fit in the backseat, and then we were driving off. I tried to keep my head down so I could avoid looking out into the crowd at all of the disappointed and terrified faces. I imagined some of them might even be angry, though I didn't understand why.

No, that was a lie. I knew what they had to be angry about.

I'd survived and no one else did. _I_ was mad at _myself_ for letting my friends die. I still didn't understand why it had been me and not someone else.

"Everything's gonna be okay now, baby. You're coming home," my mom crooned from the passenger seat. She was turned all the way around and made a big enough smile that I couldn't help but return the gesture, even if I didn't feel the same way.

*:･ﾟ✧

"Remember, don't go into any detail. The more detailed you try to make it, the more people are going to squint at your story and try to pull it apart for the lies, okay?"

I nodded mechanically, staring down at the table next to me. I was only going to get to spend half an hour with the therapist at this rate, but the two agents didn't seem like they were going to stop talking to me any time soon. The therapist was nearby, at least, and was very good at peppering encouragements to me when needed and admonishments to the agents when they got a little out of hand with their "coaching."

The room we were in wasn't that big, a small side table was at my right with some Kleenex and a fake potted plant, and a plethora of posters with various coping mechanisms and stages of several common mental illnesses hung from the walls. The usual comfy chair I would sit in had been moved out to make room for my wheelchair. My therapist had her own big chair and the two goons running me through the cover story were in folded metal seats.

Ava Rogan was a tiny thing, even smaller than me, but she had a welcoming smile and a commanding way about her that made up for her height. She did have a notebook, and she did occasionally write stuff in it.

Probably about my behavior.

"Let's run through it one more time," Agent Cooper said, flipping the pages back on his pocket notebook. I'd read through that thing about a million times now.

I just wanted to go home.

Ava narrowed her eyes and leaned forward in her seat. "You will have time to run through it again with her later. Why don't you give her your dumb notes and skedaddle so I can speak with her about the things she saw and help her heal?"

Rawlins hadn't said much this whole time and I felt like he wanted to be here as much as I did. Cooper was still the only one to speak. "We have to make sure she has this down so well even _she_ believes that it's what happened. She still can't get her means of escape down right, so we have to go over it until she—"

"Agent, give her your notes. She'll do fine! Get out of my office so I can have time with my client _alone_!" Ava snapped, swinging her own pad of paper like she meant to hit him.

Cooper looked like he was going to argue, but Rawlins got up from his seat and pulled his partner up as well. "She's right. Just give her what you have written down and she can study it at home on her own time. This is supposed to be _therapy _time right now."

"Study?" Cooper looked like the word left a sour taste in his mouth. "She's a high schooler! She probably doesn't even study her school work!"

After receiving a hard stare from his much more imposing partner, Cooper sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright alright. Here, sorry for taking up all of your time." He handed the notebook over to me and I pulled it out of his hand like it was going to catch fire and burn me.

Agent Rawlins let Cooper leave first and then turned back toward us. "See you tomorrow before the conference. I know you'll do fine."

Both Ava and I watched the door until it clicked shut, and then I turned back toward her and stared at the area around her feet. "I'm going to mess this up and get in trouble," I muttered despondently, leaning against my hand.

"Now I'm sure you'll be just fine. How have you been feeling lately?"

I pulled at a loose string dangling from the hem of my shirt and sighed. "I'm stuck in a wheelchair for the next forever and I have to deal with those two for the next more than forever _and _half of my class is dead. How do you think I feel?"

The commanding air Ava had adopted was gone. She crossed her legs and leaned forward, her expression full of so much pity it made me sick. "Probably pretty angry."

"Among other things," I muttered, averting my gaze to stare at a poster about depression.

"Why don't you tell me about them?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"I don't really want to."

"Well we can work up to that. How have you been sleeping?" She was too accommodating. I knew it was her job, but I couldn't help but be angry at her anyway.

Or maybe I was just angry in general. I shrugged. "Not at all."

She tilted her head slightly, a strand of her short black hair fell in front of her face. "Have you been given any medicine to help with that?"

"Yeah."

"And does it?"

Again I just shrugged. "I mean I guess. If I take them."

Ava leaned over to jot something down on her pad and I glanced at it. "Do you not take them?"

I shook my head and wet my lips with my tongue. "No. I mean, not very often. I don't. . .want to sleep. I can't stand the nightmares."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

The therapist sighed and offered me a reassuring smile. I looked away from her. "We can get into all of that later. How about we just get to know each other a little better first?"

It was an obvious deflection and I knew what she was doing. She was going to make me feel like she was my friend, get to know me, let me get to know her. Maybe then I'd be more open to talking about everything. Maybe then she could get some real answers out of me.

Part of me wanted to just shut down her attempts, but I knew deep down she wanted to help me. Way deep down.

But I didn't want any friends. Not right now.

"I don't want to talk. About anything," I muttered, slumping into my wheelchair and tugging at that same string until it finally came free.

"That's fine," Ava said with infuriating understanding. "Is it okay if I talk?"

For a brief moment I thought about telling her I just wanted to sit in silence, but I decided I didn't really want that. I heaved a sigh and nodded. "Yeah okay, whatever."

She smiled like I'd just given her the best present of her life and leaned back in her chair. "Alright I'll just go over some things with you. . . First I need you to understand that none of this is your fault, okay Nichole? You must not blame yourself."

Despite myself, her words brought the familiar sting of pre-tears to my eyes.

"You did a miraculous thing that night and should be _proud_ of yourself for pulling through it. I'm sure you did your best to save as many people as you could."

My gut wrenched and I ground my teeth together against the impulse to respond. She was baiting me, maybe not on purpose—though it was probably on purpose—to speak my mind and give her a window. Deep down I knew she just wanted me to heal, but I didn't _want_ to heal. This was the whole reason I had thought joining Wolf would have made this easier: I could have ignored all of this, all of the guilt of being _human_.

"Can you promise me you're not going to blame yourself?"

I took a deep breath and blinked away the tears threatening to spill. I didn't want to deal with any of this. My response was an incoherent mutter and Ava leaned forward. "What was that, Nichole?"

"I'll try."

Ava smiled at me and my hands balled into fists. "That's all I ask right now. Do you have any questions for me about anything?"

"No." I shook my head.

"Did you want me to call the agents again so you can speak to them?" It didn't sound like a threat, more like she was genuinely curious.

"No," I said a little quickly. "Just, I just wanna sit here for a while."

She leaned back in her seat and took a moment to scribble into her notebook. "That's fine. We have fifteen minutes left."

The moment of silence didn't last long—a few minutes at the most. I was already stuck with my own thoughts during normal hours of the day. My anger dulled to a simmer and I started to fidget. Ava busied herself with flipping through the pages of her notes, and then finally I started to diffuse altogether. Maybe I didn't want to talk about my particular scenario, but I did have _some_ questions.

"Is this the first time?"

Ava looked up sharply, like I had startled her. "The first time what?"

I scratched absently at a scab and glanced around, looking everywhere but at her. "Y'know. That aliens. . .and stuff."

Forming complete thoughts was obviously beyond me.

She took a deep breath and tilted her head to one side. "Well, not very often, really. There have been a couple cases in the past, though."

Now she had my attention. I sat up a little straighter in my chair and actually looked at her for the first time that entire session. "You mean like the ones I was trapped with? Or the one that helped me to escape the ship?"

My therapist rose her eyebrows at and I thought I had said too much, but she didn't press the topic. "I can't really go into that much detail about that, unfortunately. They don't tell me specifics, just that my patients have had a _close encounter_ and to. . . ."

"Fix them?" I offered.

"So to say. There's usually not much to fix. The human mind usually fixes itself during trauma, I'm just here to give them someone to talk to so they don't go crazy with all of the secrecy. Someone you can tell the unabridged version to." She brushed a strand of hair from her face. "And of course to prescribe certain drugs to help manage their symptoms."

"Symptoms?" I repeated, sounding more worried than I'd meant.

"Oh it's nothing to worry about," she assured me quickly. "Just general anxiety medicine to help keep you calm. Post-trauma manifests differently for different people."

Even though it made sense, it still made me a little worried. The nightmares were a given, but what else was there? I wanted to ask, but I felt my throat close and I just nodded instead. Maybe I'd look up some things on the internet, but that probably would just make things worse: I'd always been bad about assuming I have every ailment I ever researched.

Still, I had a small inkling of how often aliens visited Earth. Maybe I was the first person, and I certainly wasn't going to be the last person—maybe. I just hoped that the agents would bring it up so I could find out the particulars.

I didn't think that for a moment that it would be bad if they brought it up, but I suppose I probably should have.


	20. The Deepest Scars

**Hello readers!**

**Got a long one for ya this time. Thought about splitting it into two chapters, but couldn't figure out where to split it so here it is, all as one chapter. **

**I know you're all dying to see Wolf again but please be patient haha.**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

The Deepest Scars

Dreams are weird. Depending on the atmosphere and tone it could be a happy dream or a complete nightmare. I've had ones before that might have been scary, but because my subconscious didn't intend for them to be that way, they weren't.

I've had dreams that should have been innocent enough—a family dinner interrupted by a strange light—but I had woken up terrified out of my mind for apparently no reason.

Other dreams that should have been terrifying, like running away from an intruder, were only intense, like watching a crime thriller movie. Sometimes I didn't even participate in my dreams, instead taking on the role of a bystander in my own mind.

The intent of my dreams now was definitely _horror_.

Waking up from a nightmare isn't like what you see in the movies, either. The closest thing to the movies is night terrors, but you don't wake up from a night terror. All you do is scream and scream and no one can comfort or wake you—you're trapped there in your own mind, tormented, until it goes away or until another one takes its place. The only consolation is that you're not supposed to remember a night terror.

Usually you remember nightmares.

Maybe not the whole thing, but enough of it. Your only hope is that it fades away after you're awake, giving you a little bit of relief.

Until you fall back asleep.

All I wanted was to get some sleep before the big press conference. To be _alert_ when I was being bombarded with questions.

Before heading to bed I took some of those pills. Sleeping was much harder now that I had a vastly smaller selection of positions to sleep in. I would have liked to avoid the nightmares as long as possible, but short of killing myself from lack of sleep, that probably wasn't possible.

When I was little I would always sleep with a night light, but I didn't want to fall back on that crutch, not when I hadn't used one in years.

What was a nightmare compared to the real thing, anyway?

*:･ﾟ✧

I could hear the squealing from the dark. It grew louder and louder until it was right in my ear. Right on top of me.

There was something wrong.

My bed was underneath me. I could _feel_ it, but it almost didn't feel real.

The ship had been destroyed, all the eggs killed and the queen dead. There was probably nothing for me to be afraid of anymore, right?

Then why did it feel like that wasn't true? Why was I staring at a thin, looming shadow just at the edge of my bed? It wouldn't come into focus, but it was there. A dark, blurry shadow that hissed. I tried to open my mouth to scream, tried to recoil to the wall where I could protect myself, but my body wouldn't move.

I'd thought for sure that I was awake, that I was in my room.

If that was true, why couldn't I move?

Inside my ribcage, my heart was beating a mile a minute, constricting my chest like a vice. At least the dream didn't last much longer. I was finally able to blink, and by the time I opened my eyes again the phantasm was gone. The shadows in my room started to take shape—my dresser and computer desk, my coat hanging from the doorknob, and the pile of stuffed animals in the corner next to my closet.

Finally able to move, I slid closer to the wall and further from the edge of my bed, eyes darting around my room to look for more danger. Fear still gripped my chest as I searched for the drone that had invaded my room, but there was nothing.

When I lifted my hand to brush hair from my face, my fingers came away wet. I rubbed the tears from my eyes and focused on gaining control of my breathing.

The lights. I needed to turn on the lights.

But how?

I spread out on my stomach and groped around until I felt the handle of my wheelchair nearby. My heart was still racing and I felt like turning on the lights was life and death. I was panicking, and several times I caused myself pain trying to pull myself into that chair as fast as I could. I had half a mind to just get up and hobble across the room—what harm could a few steps do?—but eventually I made it to the other side of my room and flicked on the lights.

Despite knowing that I was safe, I still expected something to leap out and attack, but nothing did. I was the only living thing in the room.

Somehow I managed to swallow the lump in my throat and I slumped into my wheelchair, one hand covering my face. For a few minutes I sat like that, taking deep breaths and trying not to cry. The nightmare-induced tears had stopped, at least, and I was able to wipe the last traces away.

A scratching at the door startled me and I almost fell out of the chair. Instead I wheeled away and fought to turn around on the carpet.

On the other side of the door, a shadow paced back and forth. At first I was terrified, but then the familiar sound of Atlas' whine met my ears and I relaxed considerably. I maneuvered my chair around and pulled open the door. "Shh, Atlas, you're going to wake up the whole house."

Atlas was a black lab my mom bought when my brother was four. As soon as the door was open a tiny crack, he shoved his nose through and barged in, whining and sniffing around. He paced my room for a while, his nose glued to the ground. No matter what I did to call to him, to bring him back around, he paced and searched until he seemed satisfied.

"Find anything, boy?" I cooed, my voice subdued. Even though the last vestiges of the nightmare had receded into the deep recesses of my mind, I couldn't help the way my eyes glanced at the unlit corners of my room.

He bounded up and stood in front of me, his whole body shaking with the vigorous way he wagged his tail. He knew better than to try to jump on me and instead set a single paw atop my knee and licked at my hand. I sighed and gave him the pats he was looking for and rubbed his floppy ears until he stopped whining and sat down.

The effect his presence had was instantaneous. Fear seeped out of my body and I watched him as he leaned into my hand and panted, looking up at me with his dark eyes, as if asking if I was okay.

"It's alright boy. Only a dream," I murmured.

I continued to pet and murmur nonsense to my knight in shining fur, allowing myself time to calm down. Atlas wasn't the most well-behaved dog, but he seemed to have realized enough to know that I needed him to be still. The occasional warm, slobbery kiss on my hand was not unwelcome, either. He usually slept in his kennel in the living room, kept open so he could get up to get something to drink or use the doggy door to go outside.

Had I been making that much noise while I was dreaming that he would come to see me?

My dog reared back and put his second paw on my lap and shuffled forward so he could set his head down over his paws. I still couldn't bring a smile to my face, but I was feeling more relaxed.

The adrenaline rush ebbed and I felt exhausted again. I pushed Atlas back to the floor and rolled over to my bed, leaving the light turned on. He followed after me, his tail wagging as if to reassure me. Now that I wasn't half asleep and running from hallucinations, I had an easier time heaving myself into bed without using my legs.

Well, without using my legs _as much._

It took a lot of grunting and hissing in pain, but I managed to crawl into a position I could sleep in and flopped down onto the bed. I had intentionally left my overhead lights on to help me sleep, like I was a child afraid of the dark.

Nichole: fought through a hive of vicious, parasitic aliens.

Couldn't fall asleep without the lights on.

Wolf would have been so disappointed. I could already imagine that disdainful way he'd turn his head, the way he'd grumble. Well screw him, he was trained to go through this kind of shit. I was going to have to deal with this the way humans dealt with it.

Years of therapy.

I turned my head away from my pillow to keep from suffocating and was met with the wide, flat tongue belonging to my dog. Groaning, I turned away with a jerk and pushed his muzzle away from my face. "Atlas oh my god."

He huffed in response and I felt the bed sag as he leaped onto it. Then he buried his nose in my hair and whuffed around, tangling my hair and covering it with slobber.

"Atlas," I whined, turning my head and pushing furiously on his nose.

Finally he pulled back and then pawed at my shoulder. I sighed and rolled the best I could onto my side and laid my hand on his ribs. "If you want to sleep in my bed you're going to have to behave."

The lab cocked his head to the side and clicked his teeth together. I watched him a moment, then pushed myself closer to the wall to allow him more space to spread out. I had a double-size bed so there wasn't a whole lot of room, but at least enough that the two of us should have been able to get comfortable. I pat the space next to me and Atlas shimmied forward until he could lay his head on the pillow, then he glanced at me.

"It's alright, boy. . .just for tonight," I said, pausing long enough to yawn.

There was a moment where I fought to yank the comforter out from under the fat lard, but I finally managed to pull enough free to cover myself and settled in for a hard night.

Atlas let out a sigh of content and I put my arm around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck. He smelled like dirt and dry bark, but it didn't bother me. Even when we gave him baths he still achieved that same scent.

I was much more relaxed lying there with something fuzzy and warm and _alive_ right there with me. Now I could tell myself that if anything were to come and get me, Atlas would be the first to know. He would be the first alarm to start going off. Maybe he wouldn't be able to protect me, but at least he would be able to give me some warning.

What exactly I could do in my condition wasn't quite clear, though.

Occasionally the house made sounds, or the wind hit the walls wrong, and every time it brought me further from sleep. I'd cling harder to Atlas, clench my eyes shut.

Then he'd turn his head enough to lick my face and I'd relax again.

Eventually I fell asleep. Throughout the night, nightmares continued to wake me up. Each time it happened I groped blindly until I felt Atlas' fur at my fingertips, curled up in the crook of my legs, acting like a support. He would lick my hand in response, and then I'd bury myself further under my comforter.

It was still better sleep than I'd gotten the nights before.

*:･ﾟ✧

Something gripped my upper arm. It tugged and threatened to pull me away. I struggled and whimpered, but it wouldn't let go.

"Sweetie?"

I opened my eyes and propped my torso up with my arms. Atlas was no longer on the bed.

"Honey it's Mom." Something shook my shoulder again. "You're alright. You were having a bad dream, sweetie."

The ghosts faded into the form of my mom sitting next to me on the bed, her face drawn taut with worry. I glanced around one last time, then wiped away some drool from the corner of my mouth and brushed away some stray tears. Mom waited silently, smoothing my hair back, as I chased away the last traces of my dream.

"I didn't mean to startle you," she murmured.

"Sorry," I muttered. I sat back and glanced at the clock on my nightstand with squinted eyes.

Seven in the morning. Two hours until the conference. I wondered if there was any way for me to weasel out of going. Probably not.

"Oh baby I can't stand to see you like this," she wailed, pulling me into an embrace. Her voice was heavy with tears yet to come. I grunted and shifted into a more comfortable position. "There has to be something I can do to help."

The hopelessness in her voice brought on a fresh wave of emotions. I inhaled deeply and pulled away from her a little. "Just being home is enough. I'll be okay."

_Liar._

"Where's Atlas?" I asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Mom pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled. "He ran outside when I opened your door. Did he sleep in here all night?"

"Most of it. That okay?" I knew it would be, but for some reason I asked anyway.

"Of course, sweetie. He can sleep in here as long as you need him to." She fussed over my stray locks some more and I shooed her away with an errant wave of my hand. "Did you sleep better with him in here?"

I was glad she had yet to mention the light. It was turned off now, though, so she had to have noticed it. "I guess, maybe a little."

"Then yeah, it's okay if Atlas sleeps in here."

After a moment I pulled further away from her. There was a time when her loving embrace was all it took to make me feel better, but this wasn't a scraped knee or some mean words from a friend that was causing me distress. "I should get up and shower and get dressed. . .do we have to drive out there or will the agents come and get us?"

My mom kissed the top of my head and then stood up. "We're going to follow them out to the town hall when they get here a little after eight." When I didn't immediately respond, she sighed and smiled at me. "I'm sure we don't have to go if you really don't want to."

Yeah, right. "I'm fine. Pull my chair over here for me, please."

After shunning her every attempt to offer assistance, Mom finally moved to watch from my door and supervise instead. I had to actually stand for a few seconds to get into the chair, eliciting a disapproving noise but from my mom, but eventually I was sitting safe and sound. I tried my best to ignore her stare as I wheeled about my room, picking out clothes that would keep me warm, look classy, and that I didn't mind mutilating. The longer the silence dragged on, though, the more irritated I started to feel. A heat rose to my cheeks and I finally snapped.

"What, Mom?" I demanded, a little harsher than had been my intention.

Though I wasn't looking at her, I could see how she recoiled and it made me hate myself even more. "Nothing. I just wanted to stay nearby in case you needed some help."

No matter how much I tried, I couldn't keep the venom from lacing my words. "Well I don't. My legs are broken, not paralyzed." I sighed and rubbed my face. "I'll call you if I need anything, okay? I don't need you to hover over me."

Her hands fluttered to her chest and she looked ready to reprimand my attitude. I braced myself for the lecture, but instead her shoulders slumped in defeat and her hands swung limp at her sides.

"I'm sorry sweetie. Just holler if you need me," she said, turning to leave.

I watched her go, regret knotting my stomach, then sighed and leaned back in my wheelchair, hand covering my face. She wasn't the target of my scorn, only a convenient outlet. If I was going to keep from isolating myself from my family, I was going to have to watch my temper.

*:･ﾟ✧

What killed me the most was that if I had broken one leg instead, I could have started walking right away. However, two broken legs made it difficult: they couldn't both hold up my weight, even if I _was_ using crutches.

Getting up and down stairs was a challenge, but at least moving my ass from my room to the bathroom was easy enough.

The external fixators on my legs were cumbersome structures sticking out from the side of my thighs, and if I wanted to wear clothes, it required the destruction of my jeans. Eventually, once the fractures were healed well enough, I could graduate to wearing the braces full time.

Until then I was going to have to mutilate some of my jeans—unless of course I wanted to wear my dad's sweat pants everywhere.

Hint: I didn't.

My parents had bought a shower helper for me to sit on while bathing, and that was where I continued to sit even after I'd showered off. I had a pair of scissors in my hand and was meticulously cutting up the seams of my pant legs so they'd actually go on over my fixators.

The thing was a pain in my ass to clean and keep dry, but the last thing I wanted was to add an infection and sepsis to the list of shit that was wrong with me, so I cleaned them like I'd been shown.

At the very least, my legs didn't look quite so swollen and bruised anymore.

Dressing myself proved easier than I'd thought if I peppered in small bursts of standing up and bracing myself against the counter, and eventually I got the deed done. I used some safety pins to keep my pant legs closed so I wouldn't freeze to death, but chances were I'd sit in the wheelchair with a blanket over my lap anyway.

I put on my nicest turtleneck shirt—black with dark gray stripes—and broke out my dressiest winter jacket—a purple coat with shiny buttons and a large cuffs. When I was ready, I poised myself at the top of the stairs with my coat in my lap and I took a breath.

There were, unfortunately, some things I couldn't do by myself.

Still, I found myself hesitating as I drew the necessary air into my lungs to call out. Finally I pushed aside my pride and shouted down to the first floor. "Mom, Dad!"

A chair in the kitchen scraped against the tile and I waited a few seconds until my dad appeared at the bottom of the stairs. My mom followed a few paces behind him, looking worried, frightened even. Both of them relaxed when they realized I wasn't in any danger.

"I'm coming," my dad grunted, hopping up the stairs two at a time.

I said nothing and wrapped my arms around his neck as he lifted me from my chair and carefully carried me down. Mom pulled my chair down the steps and then he set me back in my seat when it was placed into position.

"Thanks," I muttered, ducking my head to hide the blush.

The smell of French Toast wafted to my nose and I inhaled the scent. It brightened my mood and I looked up at my mom. "You made French Toast?"

"It's your favorite, right?" she confirmed, beaming.

My brother and sister—Allen and Kristie—were already at the table with plates full of delicious toast. I pushed myself to the table and dragged one of the wooden dining chairs closer to me so I could sit and eat properly: my wheelchair wasn't high enough.

"You can sit in a normal chair, right?" Dad asked.

"I think so."

When he attempted to pick me up, I waved him off and huffed. "I can do it!"

He pulled back, hands up, and I felt everyone's eyes on me as I struggled to heave myself into the seat. I managed it okay when I pushed off the floor with one of my legs, even though it made me wince in pain. Ignoring it, I sat straight and glared at the empty plate my mom set in front of me.

"See?" I muttered.

My dad sighed and smiled at me. "I never doubted you, Nichole."

"Here's some toast for my strong baby!" my mom sang, forking two slices of French Toast onto my plate. She pushed the tub of butter and bottle of her homemade syrup close by and I gathered up the silverware my dad handed me.

It had been years since they'd waited on me like this and I felt my cheeks flush with heat. They were only trying to help, and I understood that, but I wasn't an invalid.

All I wanted was to be treated normally.

"How are your legs?" Allen asked around a mouthful of toast.

"A little achy, but I haven't needed to take my painkillers yet," I said, buttering up my own toast.

Nodding, my brother swallowed and took a swig of orange juice. "Do you get to stay out of school for a while?"

The question made me chuckle humorlessly. My mouth moved up and down, but in the end I chose not to answer the question and instead doused my meal in fresh syrup. Allen was using the store-bought bottle my mom kept around, though I couldn't fathom why: there was nothing better than homemade syrup.

However, he wasn't going to let me avoid the question. "How long do you get to miss school?"

"I don't know," I replied, sharper than I'd meant. The tendons in my jaw tensed as I tried to control my emotions.

"I wish I got to skip school," he muttered.

Kristie glanced at him, but I felt her dark eyes fall back to me. She'd been staring ever since I'd entered the kitchen and I wasn't sure why.

Mom set down a glass of orange juice in front of my place and then parked it in her own chair to eat. My dad took up position at the head of the table and flicked my brother's elbow. "Don't eat with your elbows on the table, and stop pestering your sister."

Allen grumbled, but did as he was told.

I felt like a stranger sitting at that table, like this wasn't my house. The tension in the air was palpable and I thought maybe it would be better if I went to eat in my room. Allen might not have known what was going on, why my legs were hurt, but everyone else did. Kristie obviously wanted to ask me, or maybe she was mad that I was getting all the attention and special treatment.

Or maybe she was as upset as I was. She had been so close to being in those woods with me and neither of us had known.

That first bite of French Toast hit me like a brick. It tasted like old memories, of laughter we'd shared and a happiness I'd never get to feel again. I felt undeserving of such a yummy meal, like the only thing I should have been eating was buttered toast and water—prison food, my dad always said.

Tears sprang to my eyes before I could try to control myself. I swallowed that first bite like it was made out of lead and slowly lowered my wrists to rest against the table, one in a brace and one not.

Bite after bite I forced myself to take, but I couldn't enjoy it, not like I wanted to. I had wanted to sit at the table and eat like we were a family again, but Allen was going on about how unfair it was that I got to miss school and he didn't. Kristie wouldn't stop glancing at me every now and again. My parents jumped like loaded springs every time I moved, hyper-aware of me and whatever needs they fabricated to help me with.

Though I tried my best to hide them, the tears came without permission. I sniffed quietly and forced my jaw to chew my food.

"Honey what's wrong?" my mom asked, her finger tips brushing against my upper arm.

I clenched my eyes shut and wiped my tears on my arm. "S'fine," I slurred, ducking my head and shoveling large chunks of sodden toast into my mouth.

Now everyone was staring at me.

How could I have thought everything was going to be okay? I couldn't get a handle on the emotions I was feeling: relief, guilt, anger, anguish, all of the above. . . I had to go out in a little over an hour and recount everything, or a version of everything, but I couldn't even sit at the breakfast table without crying.

"Sweetie," my mom crooned.

My sister stood abruptly and fled the kitchen without a word. I didn't look up from my plate, but my mom shot to her feet, reaching out as if to stop my sibling. "Kristie what's the matter?"

If she responded, I didn't hear it. I put my hand on my head and attempted to stomach another bite of my toast, but a fresh wave of tears was spilling over my cheeks. I sniffled and fought back the sobs, smothering them with food.

"What's wrong with Nichole?" Allen asked.

Dad hushed him and he sank into his chair, pouting. "Finish up so I can take you to school, okay? We'll tell you later."

"It's always later," he mumbled, finishing his glass of juice and scraping up the last traces of syrup onto the last bite of his food. A prong on the fork caught the porcelain at the right angle and made a sharp squealing sound.

Instantly, my flight or fight response kicked in and I felt my spine go rigid. I flinched away like I'd been hit and raised my hands up, fork clattering onto the table, to defend myself.

"Baby it's okay," Mom said quickly, leaning over to massage my shoulder.

For a brief time I didn't recognize the kitchen. It all came back to me within a few nanoseconds, but the damage had already been done. My entire body was trembling, every muscle was tense and ready for a fight.

Allen looked at me like I was crazy, but my parents looked worried. They were both standing, hands flat on the table. I lowered my own hands, looking at each of them in turn.

My lip quivered, and then the pressure behind my eyes exploded and I started to sob.

Mom moved around the table and crouched to put her arms around me. Dad soon joined her side, his hands resting on my shoulders. Allen was on his feet, only understanding that his sister was in anguish about something.

"Is Nichole okay?"

"She's going to be fine, Allen," my mom said through her own tears. "You're alright, baby girl. Mommy's got you, everything's okay, shh. . .shh it's okay, it's okay."

I wasn't sure who she was trying to convince more.


	21. Faces of your Peers

**Hello readers!**

**I know there's nothing exciting going on, but the story only has a few more chapters left so bare with me a little while longer. **

**As always, thanks for the reviews and follows/favs, and thanks to Citrine for looking over my horrible first drafts. See you all in five days.**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

Faces of your Peers

The turnout was ridiculous. Less than I'd been expecting but still more than I would ever be comfortable with. People weren't the real problem—I could handle people—but the cameras were making me nervous.

Despite my coat and the thick blanket covering my lap, the cold still found a way to chill me to the bone. A small layer of snow coated the ground and buildings in town. I thanked my lucky stars that it had at least waited to snow until I had left the woods. I sat shivering—from cold and anxiety—while the man in charge started speaking.

Someone new was standing at the podium in front of the town hall, and he was wearing a decorated uniform. I assumed that this man was Rawlins' and Cooper's superior, but we had yet to be introduced. Of the agents were standing nearby, posted almost like guards behind my family. Even the chief of police was at attention with some of his esteemed officers at his side. Other policemen were threaded throughout the crowd as added protection.

"Thank you all for coming," the man at the podium began. The crowd finally fell silent and voice recorders were lifted into the air.

"I am Chris Dixon of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Almost a week ago, tragedy befell this small town. A small taskforce had been sent into the Rocky Mountain National Park to investigate reports of missing tourists and locals. When that taskforce never returned, the military got involved."

Immediately the questions started, but Dixon raised his hand and spoke above the crowd. "Please hold all questions until the end."

After a moment, everyone gathered quieted down and Dixon continued with his speech. "Several students from Estes Park High School went missing into those woods that night, investigating grandiose rumors. A few escaped the park before being captured, but we number the missing casualties at nearly thirty people."

I felt the color drain from my face as that sank in. I didn't even hear the rest of it as I tried to do the math in my head.

Thirty people on that ship.

Thirty potential drones running around.

Of course it would have been less, I had destroyed a lot of the eggs, but that meant that there had been people in there that maybe I could have saved. Unless of course there were more eggs than people, which was a distinct possibility. . . .

How many had Wolf and I killed? A dozen? I couldn't remember all of them, and I was sure Wolf had killed a good number of them before we met up, but I wasn't sure the number was that high.

Had there been some running around in the woods, scouting for victims?

Were there _still_ some in the woods, confused and lost?

And _dangerous_.

Panic rose like high tide in my chest and I looked around, trying to find someone to ask, to warn. I hadn't gotten the chance to explain to anyone how these aliens worked—they wouldn't know to be careful in those woods, how deadly they are.

Would they be able to function without their queen?

My mom noticed my agitation and leaned down next to me, setting her hand on my shoulder. "Sweetie what's the matter?"

I shook my head and took a few deep breaths to calm down. If I wanted to I could have popped a few anxiety pills, but the last thing I wanted was to rely on a bunch of narcotics to make me feel better. I hadn't even been taking pain killers unless the pain was so bad I could hardly function.

She didn't seem convinced, but she stood up straight anyway.

". . .Nichole Shain, currently the only survivor from the domestic terrorists' attack. She was discovered by Jamison Mendes when his team went into the woods following a massive explosion they witnessed while sweeping over the park in a helicopter. "

Shit, how much did I miss when I had spaced out? I knew the story, but if this Dixon guy decided to practice his improve and change some of the story, I would have missed it.

Oh well. I'd just have to do my best.

"If she feels up to it, Nichole will now take your questions. She is still recovering, so we're going to keep it to five questions, and then I will field the rest. Nichole?" Dixon said, lifting his arm in a welcoming gesture and stepping away from the podium.

My blood pressure spiked, but I still wheeled myself over to the stand and settled next to it. When I attempted to stand, Dixon hurried to stop me and instead handed me one of the microphones.

No one had prepared me for this and I chewed on my lower lip a moment before finally bringing the microphone to my lips. "Hello?" I said, wincing when the microphone screeched loudly with feedback. I pulled the microphone away from my mouth a few inches and tried again. "Sorry."

Hands went up and everyone clamored for my attention at the same time, shouting my name and anything else they thought would work. I scanned the crowd and then picked out a gentle-looking woman who had a pen in her hand. "Uh—y-yes, lady with the. . .yellow jacket." My own voice bounced around in my skull.

Everyone's hands went down and the woman I had picked out moved up a little ways. "Yes, Nichole, I think everyone here wants to know, how did you escape?"

While I tried to remember how I was supposed to reply, my mouth moved up and down. My mind drew a blank and I panicked for a moment before decided just to disguise the truth. I took a breath, and even though I knew I was going to get flack for forgetting the government-sanctioned story, I responded.

"There was. . . a soldier there, one of the. . . missing ones. His name was, uh, Simmons. He talked to me, kept me, uh, calm and. . .told me how we could get out."

_Simmons' pained face, his calm voice despite the situation, telling me how to escape my bonds._ I closed my eyes against the vision, swallowed the lump in my throat. They waited for me to continue, and I was glad I had thought to give that man some recognition.

Really, I was disguising Wolf.

"He. . .he risked his life helping me and some others to escape but. . .but the others were. . .gunned down, including Simmons."

_Wolf, leading me and my friends down those corridors despite knowing they were all dead. Jess panting, doubled over in pain. _My hands clenched into fists and I tried to dispel the image of Jess' gaping chest from my mind.

_That cop, turning his gun on Michelle and Jason._

I inhaled sharply and focused on the crowd in front of me, their sympathetic gazes. They were with me on this, not against me. They just wanted to hear the story. I couldn't give them the real thing, but I could at least give them something to work with.

"I. . .tripped and rolled down a hill, and uh, broke my legs. . .but. . . I managed to get away, and then. . .Mendes found me." My words found confidence the more I spoke.

_Searing pain in my legs as I hit the ground. Wolf leaning over me, marking me with the blood of the queen we had killed together. _Tears were in my eyes and I quickly brushed them away, averting my gaze from the crowd.

Hopefully no one would scrutinize my tale too much.

When no one else immediately jumped into asking another question, I realized they were waiting for me to say more. I looked around, swallowed hard, and then leaned toward the microphone again. "Oh, um, n-next question."

This time I picked out a cute guy from the front row. He stepped up to ask his question, his hand raised slightly. "Why were you and your friends in the forest that night?"

At least this was an easy one. I wouldn't even have to lie.

"We. . .thought there was an alien spaceship," I muttered. "So we went to investigate and maybe. . .uh, find some aliens."

Chuckling rippled through the crowd and I ducked my head, glowering at the steps in front of me. A heat flushed across my cheeks. If they only knew that it _had_ been aliens. Maybe then they wouldn't be laughing at me.

"Next question," I snapped.

They all clamored for my attention and I pointed blindly at a man in the middle. He caught my attention because he was probably six and a half feet tall and about as thin as me. "You, uh, with the black hair and. . .green shirt."

He stood straighter and held his hand up. "Did you manage to overhear anything about another attack? Maybe where they were planning to hit next?"

The question caught me off guard and I floundered for an answer. A strangled noise came from my throat instead of words, and I looked around for someone to tell me how respond, what to say. Dixon came to my aid a few seconds later, gently removing the microphone from my grasp.

"Nichole is not at liberty to disclose that information. Please be assured that we are taking every precaution we can to ensure this doesn't happen again. Next question please."

Dixon handed the microphone back to me and stepped back. I shot him an appreciative nod and scanned the crowd for someone else to pick. I finally settled on a lady in an obnoxious pink overcoat. She pushed aside a few people and looked up, almost smug, to me.

"Why did they capture you?"

"I don't—"

"Was it because you stumbled upon their hideout? Were they going to use you all as leverage until their demands were met? What did they do to you while they had you?"

My throat closed and I felt the tears stinging my eyes, creating a pressure behind my eyes. "I don't know! They had us tied up in the dark and they didn't speak, they just—took us away, one by one. I don't know what they wanted or why they were doing it, or what happened to them when they were taken away."

Suddenly the microphone was no longer in my hand. "Alright alright, last question, you in the front, from Nine News."

I took a few deep breaths and hastily brushed away the tears from my eyes. The blonde lady Dixon had called on had a pen poised over a pocket notepad and she shouted her question to me. "How did you feel when you were picked up by the authorities?"

_They were going to kill him, or capture him. The one person who had protected me. He was ready to fight over me, though I wasn't sure why. But I couldn't let them hurt him._

That wasn't the right answer though. I needed to give them what they wanted.

"Relieved," I said. "I would get to go home and see my family again. I just—"

Tears blurred my vision and I closed my eyes tight. "I just wish that—I could have gotten my friends out, too. I tried—tried so hard but—but I couldn't. I—I want to apologize to their families. Jess'—Michelle'—everyone, I'm so sorry."

Before I could drop the mic, I held it out at arm's length and leaned into my other hand, hiding my face in my palm. Someone took it from my hand and I was wheeled out.

"You did great, baby—you did great," my mom cooed in my ear.

I didn't respond and she didn't push me to. On the stage Dixon was fielding more questions from the press. Mom didn't wheel me very far, but I still just sat and hid my face, hoping that this would end and it would be the last time I'd ever have to do anything like it ever again.

*:･ﾟ✧

There was a knock at my door later that afternoon. I had holed myself up in my room to pout, watching the TV that my dad had hauled upstairs for me, avoiding all of the news channels and sticking to mindless cartoons. I didn't want to watch TV that made me think.

"Come in." I pulled the sheet over my legs to hide the ugly contraption keeping me together.

When Kristie stepped passed the threshold, I was a surprised. Usually it was just Mom coming to check up on me, and I thought she would have been at school. "Why are you home?"

She closed the door behind her. "Our school is closed until next week."

"Oh," I said, unsure of what else to say. It made sense, since a good chunk of its students had been killed in a tragic "terrorist attack."

"But not Allen's?"

"Obviously," she scoffed.

Her sharp tongue was nothing new to me, so I ignored it. "Well, what do you need?"

Kristie moved away from the door and leaned against the wall, her eyes narrowed slightly. I got the distinct feeling I was about to get the third degree from her, though I had no real idea what she had to be upset with me for.

"I know it wasn't _terrorists_." She spat the word out like a bad taste.

To my credit, I kept a straight face. "What do you mean?"

"Rachel was _there_, Nichole, and saw the ship. She saw those _things_ chase and attack everyone before she ran. She says it wasn't terrorists," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "And I want to know what really happened to you, to everyone."

I looked away from her and huffed. "I don't know what your friend saw, but I already told everyone what happened."

"Everyone thinks she's crazy! She keeps telling people that it was _real aliens_ but no one believes her! You could tell everyone the truth and she wouldn't feel so stupid anymore!" she demanded, striding across the room like she was going to challenge me.

"Kristie I told everyone what happened. I don't want to talk about it anymore, or _ever_." I didn't know why she just wouldn't drop it. Why she even _wanted_ to know, or how her friend was getting away with telling _anyone_ what it was. Surely the government had spoken to her? Maybe they just figured no one would believe her and they could leave it at that.

My sister threw her hands up and I flinched, fingers the blankets around me and forming a fist. If she insisted on attacking me verbally, and threatening to attack me physically, I wasn't sure how I was going to react.

All I knew was that she probably wouldn't like it.

"Why are you lying? Tell me what happened!"

"Drop it!" I snarled. "I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to _think_ about it! Just leave me alone and tell your friend to stop it before she gets into trouble!"

Briefly, all I saw was the rage burning in my sister's dark eyes. I prepared myself to fend off one of her famous tantrums, but instead she just grunted angrily and stormed out of my room, slamming the door behind her. The frames on my wall shook.

Once she was gone I picked up one of the extra pillows Mom had found for me and tossed it at the door. I sank slightly against the wall now that some of my support was gone, but I didn't care.

I had thought for a while that everything would be okay. I'd talked to the press and said all of the lies I was told to make. Jess' mom had even visited an hour after the conference to give me a message. I hadn't spoken to her directly, too afraid to face her, but my mom had said she'd only had kind words to say. I wasn't sure if it was true or if Mom was just telling me that because it was what I needed to hear, but it made me feel better none the less.

For a few hours I felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. All I had to do was survive the interrogation the Men in Black had for me, and then it was smooth sailing. The therapist would help me through the trauma and I could go on living.

Semi-normally.

Wolf wasn't going to come back, I already knew that. How would he find me even if he wanted to? And if he _did_ come back, he wouldn't _want_ me anymore anyway. Not with how _broken_ I was.

Maybe I'd even start to fit back in at school. I only had a year left after this, I could survive that long and get a job somewhere, go to college. Leave this horrible place behind forever. I had thought that I had a shot at a normal life.

Now, though, I could tell my sister was going to make my life hell. Maybe eventually she'd warm up and get over it, but definitely not for a while.

She had a tendency to hold grudges.

Another knock pulled me from my thoughts and I lifted my head. "What?"

My mom peeked her head in the door and peered around. "Is everything okay? I heard your door slam."

I nodded and sighed. "It was just Kristie."

Mom opened the door further and took a step inside. "What did your sister want?"

"I don't know," I lied. "Can you hand me that pillow please?"

The pillow in question was still against the door. Mom leaned down and picked it up in one hand. "Don't worry about your sister, she's a little shaken up, probably with how close she was to. . . ." she trailed off and leaned my torso forward so she could put the pillow into place.

"Yeah, sure."

She flitted about my room like a hummingbird for a few minutes, straightening up my knickknacks and picking up stray clothes. Just watching her made me tired.

"Mom."

Her response was a distracted hum. She barely even glanced over her shoulder at me.

Sighing, I rubbed my eyes. "Mom I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier."

"That's alright, sweetie," she said, picking up my laundry hamper. She tucked it against her hip and finally turned to face me. "We're all under a lot of stress and you went through so much. Did you want to come down and watch TV in the living room with everyone?"

I shook my head and glanced away from her. "No, I just want to be alone for right now."

She nodded and walked over to give me a kiss on the forehead. "Just holler if you need me, okay? Tomorrow while you're in therapy I'll go pick you up a new cell phone."

"Sure. Thanks mom." Therapy. Right.

"You're welcome sweetie." She stood in the doorway a moment longer, just to be sure I didn't think of something last minute, and then closed the door behind her. I stared at the spot she'd disappeared for a heartbeat and then turned my gaze to the window—

—and wondered where I could have been instead of in my room.


	22. Defiant to the End

Chapter Twenty

Defiant to the End

"Tell us about the alien that was with you when Mendes found you."

A pit formed in my stomach and I stared at the table in front of me. My therapy session had been moved to a small room where the staff could hold meetings, so everyone had a place to sit. I was on one side of the table with Rawlins and Cooper were sitting across from me. A thick file was laying in front of them.

Of course they wouldn't call it an interrogation, but that's what it was. If it walked like a duck and quacked like a duck. . . .

My wheelchair was nearby, but it wouldn't offer a quick escape if I wanted one. Even if I was already sitting in it, it would be no hard feat to grab me if I tried to cart myself off somewhere to avoid a question. At least I had one person on my side.

Ava sat in a chair on my side of the table, a watchful guardian. Apparently since I couldn't have my parents sitting in on my interrogation like I was supposed to, Ava was the next best thing.

"What do you mean?" I asked, stalling.

Rawlins was the picture of patience with his hands folded neatly on the table top. Cooper was lounging in his chair, one arm draped over the back. It was Rawlins who had asked the question, and Cooper who followed it.

"We know you were with a human-like alien when Mendes found you. It was on its ship but it came out when they were trying to rescue you," he elaborated, one eyebrow quirked.

I shrugged and tried to seem nonchalant. "What do you want to know?"

"What was it doing with you?" Rawlins repeated, keeping his voice kind even when Cooper opened his mouth to retort.

Again, I shrugged and refused to look up at them. "He saved me."

"What?" Cooper scoffed.

Heat rose to my cheeks and I squeezed my hands together. "He kept me safe and helped me get out of that ship alive. That's all I know."

"Why would it do that, Nichole?" Rawlins asked.

"How should I know?" I spat, finally looking up from the table at the two of them. "He couldn't speak, so it's not like I could have asked him."

The two agents shared significant glances and then Rawlins flitted through the file, pulling several sheets out and laying them in a stack in front of him. I craned my neck to see, but the angle was all wrong for peeking.

He took out one particular picture from the middle of the pile and slid it over to me. "That him?"

Suspicious, I pulled the picture closer and scanned it. The muscles in my jaw tensed and I sucked in a breath. The picture was from a distance, but standing in it was the hulking mass of another from Wolf's species, in what looked like a slaughter house. I had thought it was just one sheet, but there was another picture underneath it: an artists' rendering of the face.

"I mean. . . yeah, I guess. How did you. . .?" It didn't look like Wolf—well it did, but I knew it wasn't. I had spent enough time with him to know the shape of his body, the way he held himself. This one was all wrong.

Cooper took the two from me and set them aside. "We've been tracking his kind since before you were born."

My eyebrows shot up. "Wuh—what?"

Rawlins handed the pile of papers over to Cooper who started to thumb through them. "We need you to tell us what sort of technology he used. Why he was here, what those things were to him."

Instantly I was on the defensive. I hunched my shoulders and brought my arms in to my chest. "I don't know anything. It was dark and I didn't see a whole lot." Like I was going to give away my savior's trade secrets.

Even if I wouldn't see him again.

Sighing, Cooper picked out a new pile of pictures and slapped them in front of me. Some spun off to the side, threatening to fall, but I caught them.

"Do not get me wrong, Ms. Shain. We know _a lot_ about these things. You are not protecting a good alien. We don't know why he helped you, just that it probably wasn't out of the kindness in his _heart_. Go on, take a look," he demanded, nodding to the pictures.

Nothing about these pictures was something I wanted to look at. From the glimpses I had seen when he'd tossed them at me, they weren't pretty.

When I didn't immediately look at them, he leaned forward and spread them out in front of me. "See this? 1987, South America. A special ops team went into the jungle to rescue our soldiers. One of those _things_ was hunting them. Skinned them. Hung them up. Stole their _skulls_."

"Only two made it out, and only one of them was military. The other was some local," Rawlins added, handing me another picture. This one was of man who was nothing more than a walking slab of muscle. "He managed to kill the one that took out his team. It activated some sort of bomb that blew up half the rain forest."

Like how Wolf blew up that ship. I pursed my lips and stared at the man for a while longer, imagining him and one of Wolf's kind flexing muscles at each other. A tendon in my jaw twitched when I tried not to giggle.

"These," Cooper continued, flicking aside more papers. "Los Angeles, 1997. Another one hunted down cops, gang members, armed civilians—they _hunt_ _our kind_ for _trophies_."

My stomach churned and I pushed away the grainy image of a bloodied body hanging from a tree. Underneath it was another one, a man with his skull and spinal column ripped straight from his corpse. There was so much blood.

I started to tremble and my fingers slipped on the prints when I tried to push them away in disgust, so I pushed away from the table and put my hands on my head. My heart was thudding in my chest, and all I could think of were the skulls in the trophy room Wolf had shown me. They might not have belonged to Wolf, but. . .what if he still had some, somewhere?

"But he didn't—didn't kill _me_, so—and I really don't know that much."

He pushed more pictures over to me and I flinched like I'd been hit. There was always so much blood, beheaded bodies—I grabbed my head between my hands and clenched my eyes shut.

Ava leaned over and picked up one of the pictures when she saw my condition. She paled and then flung the image at Cooper before getting to her feet and collecting all of them in her hands. "Excuse me! My client is a _trauma_ patient! You can't just show her stuff like this haphazardly!"

Cooper flung his hand in my direction. "She needs to cooperate and if this is how we get her to do that, then so be it!"

Face red, the small therapist threw the papers at Cooper. They fluttered all over the place, but at least three or four them wound up slapping him in the face. He looked flabbergasted for a second, and Rawlins leaned away. "You're out of line!" she spat.

The agent stood up and slammed his fists on the table, making me recoil. "_I'm _out of line?"

Rawlins put a hand on Cooper's shoulder and forced him back into his seat. "She's right, let the girl alone."

For a minute Cooper looked like he was ready to argue, but eventually sat back down. Ava remained standing for another heartbeat, and then took her seat next to me and put an arm around my shoulder. "Are you alright? We don't have to continue if you don't want to."

"Like hell she doesn't."

Everyone shot Cooper a glare and he snorted before crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ms. Shain," Rawlins said. They were really pushing the "good cop bad cop" cliché. "Why don't we start with what _we_ know about them, and you fill in the gaps?"

I shook my head. "You're asking all the wrong questions! What about the things that took us? I didn't get a chance to speak to you at the conference, but there could be more out there in those woods! Your people could be in danger, they could come back. You have to search the whole—"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Cooper said, raising his hand. I glowered at him, but clamped my mouth shut with a click of my teeth. "We've already come across them."

Rawlins must have noticed the look of terror on my face because he leaned forward and reached a hand toward me. "Don't worry, we were well prepared this time. We only suffered a few deaths, mostly injuries."

That didn't make me feel _any_ better. My breaths started to come more rapidly as I thought about them coming out of the woods, into town, attacking people—

"So if you please," Rawlins continued, tapping a stack of papers against the tabletop to straighten them out. "We have the alien you were with written down as a species standing approximately eight feet tall, is that accurate?"

At first I thought he meant the drones, but then I realized what he was talking about. "I guess."

Next to me, Ava sniffed. "Can you hurry it up? I want a chance to speak with my client alone sometime _today_, please."

Cooper's face reddened and I thought he was going to start blowing steam out of his ears. Rawlins removed one paper from the stack before handing the rest to Cooper, then flipped it over to the blank side and scribbled a few notes. "Just glance over these things I'm writing down and tell me if they're true or not, and enlighten us if they aren't."

He slipped the paper across the table to me and I had to resist the urge to look at the other side. Rawlins had written down a few bullet points about Wolf's species, probably to avoid me seeing something that was too secretive, even for me.

The more I read, the closer I felt to Wolf. Most of it I wouldn't have ever been able to deduce without spending more time with him.

"They see in infrared?" I asked.

Cooper nodded. "The first man who survived an attack from these things covered himself in mud and it couldn't see him anymore. We don't think that's the only thing they see in, though, as the one in Los Angeles could see our operatives even when they were wearing special suits."

My brow knit together as I thought about that. When he had shown me the alien queen, it had appeared light green. So far as I knew nothing in heat vision appeared green. "The mask," I muttered.

"What?" Cooper asked, leaning forward.

I looked up and shook my head. "Nothing, nothing."

_Watch yourself, Nichole, don't tell them all Wolf's secrets._

Both agents glanced at each other and then Rawlins wrote down a note. "Okay, good. The other things there?"

_Focus_, I berated myself. I would have to watch what I told them, but if I played my cards right I might be able to learn more about Wolf and his kind than I could tell them. I didn't think I knew anything ground breaking that would give them something to use against Wolf—not that they didn't already know. It seemed they knew quite a bit.

High tech weapons, hunts for trophies, some version of an honor code, turns invisible. . . .

"Well," I said. I waved my hand over the paper and handed it back. "You guys know everything I know. It's not like I could talk to him, not like he could tell me much about himself."

Rawlins nodded his head toward me. "What's the mark on your chest?"

My hand rose and I brushed my fingers over the spot my shirt covered. "I'm not really sure."

"When did he give it to you?"

"What makes you think _he_ gave it to me?" I shot back. "It could have just been a splatter from the acid those things bleed."

They shared another glance and I wanted to throw something at them. Something heavy.

"Alright, we'll come back to it," Rawlins said. Cooper didn't look like he agreed, but he didn't push the subject either. "What about—"

I shook my head and huffed. "No! Ask about the black things, about their nesting habits, their life cycle. They're _easy_. Let me tell you about them, since they're the things that were _actually _killing people! You're obviously going to get another shot at whatever these other aliens are if they come back every few years, so ask me about the ones that killed my friends!"

When the agents turned to look at each other I slammed my palms against table top and clenched my teeth together. "Stop _doing_ that!"

Ava put a hand on my shoulder and glared over at the other two. "I think this is over, you can continue next time. She needs a break from you two a-holes pestering and picking at her like she's a perpetrator in a crime."

"These are very time-sensitive topics. We need to talk to her while it's all still fresh," Cooper argued, his fingers tapping impatiently.

"Her _wounds_ are still fresh, too!"

I held my face in my hands and groaned. "Just ask me about the black things! I can talk about the black things!"

Cooper stood with Rawlins, who gathered up their papers. "We don't need you to tell us about them, we're figuring it all out for ourselves."

Rawlins tucked the folder under his arm once everything was straightened up and said, "At first we thought about asking you, but considering your past with these things we decided to spare you from reliving those painful memories."

My therapist-slash-impromptu-guardian also pushed herself to her feet, but I remained, not even making a move for my wheelchair. "What do you _mean_ you're 'figuring it out for yourselves'?"

"Well, we have that recording you made inside the nest. That's been a lot of help."

"And we have one," Cooper said, smirking.

I felt the color drain from my face. "One what?"

"Y'know. The aliens. We caught one. Well, three of them," Cooper said, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his cheap suit pants.

If I hadn't been sitting, I would have collapsed. Already my heart was ramming against my chest and I suddenly found it hard to breathe. Everyone watched me with slight concern until finally I attempted to scramble upright. Ava hurried to push me back into my seat.

"You—you _didn't_. You—you have to kill them, _now_!" My voice was hoarse.

Rawlins extended a hand. "I promise you they're locked up safe. No way to get out. We're going to learn what we can about them, the ones we killed are already being dissected and studied."

_No no no._

I shook my head, eyes never leaving the two agents. "You won't learn anything about them like that! You just have _drones_. They're like—like ants, or bees. They have a queen. Without the queen they'll be—they'll be useless, lost. They won't reproduce, the queen lays eggs!"

Cooper shrugged. "Then there's nothing to worry about if they can't reproduce."

They didn't seem to understand that they had machines incapable of remorse or reasoning. Wolf had an honor code, only killed the worthy or in self-defense. These things—without a queen, without a reason to do anything. . .would they just stop, or would they kill indiscriminately?

"But—I don't know how smart they are." I floundered for a moment, then knit my brows at them. "Let me see them."

"That is out of the question," Rawlins said, always so calm.

Ava stepped forward, mouth open, but Cooper cut her off. "They're not even in Colorado anymore. It would be highly inappropriate to fly you to our compound let alone let you see them."

"Now hang on," Ava finally said. "It might be a _good_ thing for her to see them."

"What?" We all turned to her, varying expressions of surprise on our faces.

She looked between us, then sighed and rolled her eyes. "It could be very cathartic for her. Seeing the things that tormented and tried to kill her locked up. It might accelerate the healing process to know that they can't hurt her anymore."

I _severely_ doubted that, but whatever it took for me to see these things.

However, Cooper shook his head and rubbed his nose. "No, it's just not possible. Besides, what if it makes it worse?"

"It might, or it might make her feel better," Ava sighed, exasperated.

Rawlins put a hand on Cooper's shoulder and took a step forward. "Okay, well, if Nichole wants to see them then we could give it a try."

"I do!"

"The best we can do," Rawlins continued, ignoring me, "is get some pictures though. There's just no way we could get her cleared to fly out to the facility let alone get _inside_ the facility."

Cooper glanced at Rawlins. "Even then we can't get pictures of everything, just of their holding cell. And that's a _maybe_. We don't know if our bosses would allow even _that_ much," he amended, sounding as frustrated as Ava.

"That's fine," Ava sniffed. "Whatever you can do. I'll sign papers, write a note, whatever. If it'll make Nichole feel better, then they should be willing to at least _try_."

Their way of talking about me like I wasn't there was starting to grind on my nerves. I felt my face redden and I crossed my arms over my chest. "I _want_ to see them. If possible I'd like to see them _dead_. You don't know what they're capable of!"

"And we won't know unless we have _live _specimens," Cooper snapped. Before I could say anything else, he stormed toward the door. "Enjoy the rest of your session, we'll see you next time."

Rawlings followed him but stopped before crossing the threshold. "If we can get some pictures, we'll have them for you by the next time we see you. It might not be this week, but we'll stay in touch." He offered a smile and wave, and then closed the door behind him.

As soon as he was gone, I felt the bite of my nails in my palms. Ava waited a second before turning toward me. "Alright, hurry up, let's get to my office. We have fifteen minutes to talk."

It took a moment for the words to register, but I heaved myself in my wheelchair and followed after Ava down the hallways. If I hadn't needed to pay attention to the turns she took, I would have been lost in my thoughts. A million miles away, in some secret government facility where they were keeping a few of the drones.

The things that haunted my nightmares.

What were they thinking, keeping just _one _of them alive, let alone more than one? If they knew, if they had _been _there, they would have killed them outright. . . .

Or maybe I really _was_ being unreasonable. They had no queen, so they couldn't reproduce. Without a queen to tell them what to do, maybe they'd just slowly wither away and die. There was no way of knowing—which also meant there was no way of knowing if they were smart enough to get out. If they would be meaner without a queen.

Couldn't they learn enough from the dead ones? From me telling them what I'd learned? Why would they need to study their behavior?

They had to be killed, I knew that much.

How could I convince them?


	23. Dead and Gone

**Hello readers!**

**I'm SOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry about the wait. Work swamped me with a bunch of hours, and they were all late shifts so I barely had any time to myself. Tomorrow is my first day off in a week and I have been exhausted. I really hope that chapter twenty-two will be out quicker, but I'm no longer going to make any promises about when my chapters are going to come out. At least not until I figure out how how often I'm going to be scheduled for these crazy shifts. **

**Anyway, hope this was worth the wait, and next chapter will be even better, promise! :D **

**Thanks for all of the support and your patience! And of course a special thanks goes to Citrine for helping me get particular scenes in this chapter perfect through her betaing. I'm sorry I don't respond to everyone's reviews, but I do read each and every one of them as soon as I get the email! :D Hope to see you guys soon!**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

Dead and Gone

"When are you going back to school?"

I didn't lift my eyes from my cereal and lingered on the bite currently occupying my mouth. I didn't have an immediate answer, so I chewed slowly until I could come up with something to say.

For the past week Dad had been pestering me once school had reopened, trying to whittle me down so I would go back. I tried to tell myself he thought I needed the normalcy, but he just wasn't that sensitive. In fact, I was almost certain that he was only worried about my grades.

"I don't know," I said at last before taking another bite of cereal. Right about then I wished I had stayed in bed. Wished I could sleep longer and avoid breakfast with everyone.

My sister's stare burned holes in the back of my head.

At least my brother was already done eating. He was upstairs getting dressed for the funeral.

"You have to go back eventually," he pointed out. The newspaper in his hand rustled as he changed pages. I was certain he was single-handedly keeping the printed news business afloat. Well, it might have been a combined effort between all dads everywhere

Though I knew it to be true, I was going to postpone my reintroduction to education as long as I could. None of it seemed important to me anymore, not when I knew everything could end in the blink of an eye. Not when my only friends weren't going to be there anymore. Sure, most of my soccer teammates would be there, but that was all they were: teammates. Between seasons we didn't hang out, and now that I was no longer part of the team, I would have no one.

"I know," I said with a sigh. "But the funeral's today and I just. . .need more time."

Dad sighed, but it was Mom who spoke. "Of course. Another week won't hurt anything." She cleared away her dishes and moved to the sink.

He said, "Next week you're going back."

Great, his _and that's final_ voice. "Mm-hmm."

Kristie pushed her chair out so she could stand and picked up her dishes. "Well I'm going to school tomorrow." She followed Mom into the kitchen.

"Good for you," I said under my breath, rolling my eyes.

If she heard me, there was no outward sign and she certainly didn't have a comeback. I kept my eyes on her for a moment longer while I finished off my cereal, and then swallowed the last few mouthfuls of the sugary milk.

When I stood up to clear away my dishes, no one immediately jumped to me. I thought I was going to get away with it until my dad came to his senses.

"Nichole what are you doing?" he half-shouted, standing so suddenly that he almost knocked over his chair. A page from his newspaper tumbled askew from the stack. I froze where I stood, teetering on unsteady legs, while he stole my bowl from me and my mom scuttled over, forcing me into the nearest chair.

My brows knit together and I pursed my lips. "I'm okay, my legs haven't hurt in days."

"That's because you've been resting them," Mom scolded, one hand on her head and the other on her hip. "Honestly, Nichole."

Heat flushed my face and I stared at the table top until Mom could bring around my wheel chair. I glared at it instead of pulling myself into it. Dr. Kendrick had told me I might be able to walk with crutches at the three week mark if everything went okay, but that couldn't come soon enough.

"Did you need help up the stairs so you can get ready?" Mom asked, sounding hopeful.

I knew I had to go to this funeral, but I was still going to stall for a little bit. I dodged her question and instead asked one of my own. "When are you guys going back to work?"

"Your father is going in today, but I'm going to take another two days off so I can help clean up after the memorial service today, unless you want me to stay home with you until you go back to school, of course."

That's right, it wasn't really a funeral at all. The town had elected to give one massive ceremony for everyone who had died in the incident. There were no bodies, of course, so nothing was open casket. However, every person was going to get a little passage read about them from their families. A lot of people had come together to help pull it off, my mom included.

Having the house alone scared me, but at the same time it would be refreshing. I wouldn't have to hide in my room to get the peace and quiet I needed, but I also knew that Dad would probably lecture me about lounging on the couch all day. . .

Oh wait. There was the whole _broken legs_ thing. Maybe I could get away with it after all.

Didn't mean he was going to be happy about it, though.

"No, I'll be fine by myself. Atlas will be here, right?"

She smiled and stroked my hair. "Yeah, I guess he will be. Well we're going to head over there at about ten so you best hurry and get ready."

I nodded and moved into my wheelchair. "Yeah, sure. Where is Atlas, anyway?"

Dad came over to collect his paper and started to fold it back up. "Outside barking at a squirrel or a bird or something."

Sure enough, I could hear the faint sound of our dog barking in the back yard. He stopped and started in fits, and it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to bark at everything he perceived as a threat—usually other people walking by with their dogs.

Every morning he would do the same routine, and it was something we had never really been able to break no matter how much training we did.

Kristie walked over to the back door and threw it open. "Get in here!" she shouted. Atlas continued barking for a while, then skittered inside. His claws clicked on the kitchen floor. He greeted everyone in turn, and then ran straight back outside through the doggy door to start his barking again. Kristie groaned and just stormed up the stairs to get ready.

I watched her with a growing sadness, then turned to look for my dad. "Alright can you take me upstairs so I can get ready? Please?"

He nodded and scooped me up with a little bit of effort, then carried me up to my room. Mom followed behind us, dragging my wheelchair with her. At the top of the stairs they set me down and let me wheel myself around.

"Do you need any help?" my mom offered as my dad made his way back down the stairs.

Shaking my head, I started toward my room. "No, I'll be fine."

She lingered behind me, but I closed my door before she could insist and sat there a moment, head tilted back and eyes closed. I had been avoiding seeing anyone but my family, Dr. Kendrick, Ava, and the agents for as long as I could, but now. . .now I was going to have to face everyone all at once. All I could do was hope that they didn't force me to make a speech of some sort.

*:･ﾟ✧

It seemed like the whole town had arrived to pay their respects. It was a sea of bodies out in the cold, all clad in varying shades of black with a speck of color here or there. Snow covered everything, making it seem like the color had been drained from the entire area. Above us, gray clouds drifted lazily across a blue sea, but it wasn't a particularly overcast day.

Just black and white.

The funeral home hadn't been anywhere near big enough for the entire city, so some people had made last-minute calls to the Stanley Hotel, and the staff there were more than happy to oblige. Their various venues were more than large enough to accommodate the sheer number of people who showed up.

Everyone was still piling into the iconic hotel an hour after everything had to be relocated. Finally, an hour and a half after the scheduled time, the memorial service began and everyone took their seat in the large MacGregor Ballroom. A slideshow had been set up by everyone who had lost someone, music played over the speakers, and a lot of people cried.

The speaking came to a close and people were once again allowed to mill around, socialize. I was sitting near the front with the pictures of everyone who was known to have been a victim. Even though I was right next to it, I refused to so much as glance in its direction.

I couldn't look at Jess. At Michelle or Jake or. . .any of them. Not without remembering their faces contorted in fear. Jess' pained expression. The officer giving into despair and the look of absolute hopelessness and resolve just before he shot my friends dead, followed by himself. It was enough to make my lip quiver, to make my eyes burn with tears.

Up until the speeches had been concluded I hadn't cried. Tears had fallen, yes, but that wasn't quite crying in my book. I had kept up a stony expression and focused on anything I could to keep from losing my composure.

"Nichole?"

My hands balled into fists and I bit back the startled scream. Still, I twitched in my seat and snapped my gaze toward the voice—someone I barely recognized.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," the man said. A woman I assumed was his wife stood at his heels, her hands on his shoulder. Both of them had red, puffy eyes, though the man certainly had a more composed expression, whereas his wife looked like she was ready to burst back into tears at the drop of a dime.

I shook my head and forced my fingers to relax. "It's okay. Did you lose someone?"

He nodded his head and said, "Ah, yes. Our. . .son, Michael. We just wanted to know, if, um, was. . . Did he suffer at all?"

"Was he tortured?" the woman blurted out. The thought sent her into sobbing convulsions.

Though I wasn't sure who their son was, I could imagine what it had been like. My eyes focused on something far away, in the past. That dark nest, people plastered to the wall. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I figured it didn't matter who their son was, his fate was probably the same as everyone else's who was in that hive.

Maybe I couldn't summon his face, but I summoned something else—flashes of varying people encased in their hard crust cocoons. Those ugly-ass facehuggers attached to. . .well, their faces. I shut my eyes against the image and pinched my arm, letting the pain bring me back to reality.

"Um, no," I managed to say. I couldn't even begin to conceive what all the victims went through before they died, but I was there to bring comfort, not make things worse.

At least I knew what they _wanted_ to hear.

"No one was really. . . tortured," I said, opening my eyes again. I wished I could force a smile, but I couldn't do that much. I wasn't even sure if a smile would be appreciated. "Yeah, they didn't torture anyone, just, it was like. . ." When I found I couldn't come up with anything, I just shook my head. "I don't. . .really want to talk about it."

Michael's dad reached forward and put a hand on my shoulder. "You've already said enough."

His wife lifted a crumpled tissue to her eyes and forced a smile. I found it easier to do the same when I had an example in front of me. "Thank you."

As they left, I realized there was a whole group of people standing around, waiting for their chance to talk to me. They all came in pairs or small groups and I was grateful for that, but they all asked the same questions—what were her final moments like? Was he brave? Did he try to stand up for himself? Very few asked about my particular situation, so it was easy to tell them what they wanted to hear to get them to leave.

Eventually, the people I didn't want to see approached. My heart dropped and I already felt a swell of emotion in my chest. Jess' and Michelle's parents both came to me at the same time—well, their mothers. I didn't know where their dads were. Had I not been practicing the art of not crying for the past two weeks, I would have burst into tears at the very sight of them.

I had never been particularly close to Michelle's family, and though Francine wasn't quite like my second mom, I still considered her comparable to extended family. As they approached, I thought about running away, but I knew I was going to have to face them.

"Nichole, sweetie," Francine cooed, reaching out to me. I found myself reaching back not out of need for her comfort, but because I knew she needed to comfort me.

Though I had to lift myself a little out of my seat to properly hug Jess' mom, I didn't mind too much. I held the embrace until she let go and then settled back down. I couldn't meet her eyes no matter how hard I tried.

Her hand brushed my face, but I spoke first. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry we ever went out there. Jess didn't want to go, but Michelle and I wanted to see the spaceship, the aliens, so I convinced her to come with us, I should have just—it's all my fault. I'm sorry—I'm sorry I couldn't bring them back with me." The words tumbled from my mouth unfiltered, and it was by some miracle I managed not to give out any specific details.

If they noticed my slip about the spaceship, they brushed it off.

"No, no," Francine sighed, her voice heavy with tears. She held me again while I tried to stop the sobs and get control of myself again. "No one's blaming you, least of all me."

Francine let me go and I brushed tears away from my eyes. I forced the tide of emotions down, convinced myself that I was only crying because everyone else was. Michelle's mom stepped up next to Francine and put her hand on my shoulder. Though I tried to look up at her, I was unable: her expression was stony and contrasted with what she said. "She's right. No one blames you for this directly."

Directly. The word hit me like a brick.

Before either of the two could say anything more, I was swarmed by a crowd of familiar faces and a flurry of well-wishes. Francine and Lauren were pushed away and quietly melted into the rest of the crowd and I was left alone with my soccer teammates.

"How are you feeling?"

"Will you be able to play again?"

"When you missed practice I had no idea that—"

I lifted my hands and closed my eyes. They flung questions and comforting words at me all at the same time and I could only process some of them. "I'm doing alright, no I won't be able to play anymore, even when I'm healed."

A collective groan of pity rippled through the small gaggle of girls and I found it rather tedious.

"What are you going to do then?" the varsity striker, Caitlyn, asked.

"Learn how to play chess, I guess."

A few chuckled, but most were too choked up on funeral sadness to find it even kind of funny. To be fair, I wasn't laughing either.

We spoke for a little while and I was glad for their company, if only because they barred anyone else from approaching. They did most of the talking while I sat and nodded when I was supposed to, feigned interest when it was appropriate, and went "aw" when necessary. For the most part I just wished the whole thing was over.

I had only been to one funeral before, when my great-grandma on my mom's side had died. We'd driven all the way to Nebraska for it, and it had been a quarter of the size. Maybe even an eighth. The service had been in a church, and then we drove out to the cemetery for the lowering of the casket. The original plan for this service had been something similar, but there wasn't any caskets to speak of. Without that, I wasn't really sure what the plan was anymore.

At my great-grandma's funeral we had small sandwiches, cookies, punch, and other little confectionaries after the service and before the burial. It was much the same here, but there lacked the kind of levity that had been present at my great-grandma's: it had been a funeral for a woman who had lived a full and relatively happy life.

Not so this time.

These were lives cut down before their prime, snuffed out with so much potential. There was no celebrating of a complete life. Some people weren't eating, and those that were partaking in refreshments were sitting sullenly by themselves or with their families. Any occasional outburst of laughter or mirth caught attention and was quieted.

Soon, people started to file out of the Stanley and head to their cars. I liked to imagine I knew where they were going, but no one told me anything around here.

They were too afraid of setting me off or something.

Whatever.

I started to wheel myself toward the door and look for my parents, but my mom beat me to it and put a hand on my shoulder, eliciting the reaction to attempt a backhand against her. Luckily I hit nothing but air and she said, "Oh I'm sorry honey, I didn't mean to scare you."

My cheeks burned and I crossed my arms over my chest, allowing her to push my wheelchair on her own. "It's fine."

"Did you get something to eat?"

"No."

"Well let's go grab you something and then we can head out towards the memorial."

"Where's that?" I asked, turning just enough to glance at my mom.

She shrugged, stopping at the table of goodies and piling food on a paper plate. "I'm not sure. We're going to follow everyone else. I'm sure someone who knows is going to lead us all there. Mustard on your sandwich?"

"Yes please."

Mom made up my sandwich using the dishes of condiments, set a handful of Doritos on the plate next to it, picked out a sugar cookie for desert, then handed me the plate. I set it on my lap and started on the Doritos while she poured me a glass of lemonade and handed that to me, too. I almost asked for another cookie, but decided against it.

I asked, "Where's everyone else? Dad, Kristie, Allen?"

"I told them to get the car warmed up while I grabbed you. Did you talk to a lot of people?"

"I guess."

Conversation dwindled when we reached the door and Mom had to maneuver through the wave of people without running over anyone's feet. The cold air blasted me in the face and I shivered in my seat, pulling my jacket tighter around me. It had been cold in the MacGregor Ballroom, but nowhere near the degree it was outside.

It had snowed again several times over the week, but it had always warmed up enough during the afternoons that most of it melted away. There was still a few inches, but at least the city didn't have to be closed off.

*:･ﾟ✧

Police led the huge line of cars through the city. We had a motorcycle escort to keep traffic at bay, but there wasn't much and it seemed like a waste. There had to be a dozen cars ahead of us, and even more behind. I had finished all of my food and stowed the empty cup and plate underneath my seat for later, but it probably would stay there for a week before it was found.

We passed building after building and it wasn't long before I noticed what direction we were going. My gut churned when I realized where we were headed—the national park.

"Why are we going this way?" I demanded in a meek voice.

Dad glanced at me in the rear view mirror. I was sitting closest to the right door with Allen between me and Kristie. "They set up a memorial in the picnic area."

"What?" My blood ran cold and I quickly glanced out the windows. Buildings were giving way to trees and the path wound ever upwards. We had to be only a few minutes from the park and my heart was already pounding against my ribs.

"Yeah, this'll be the first time they let anyone near the park since you were found."

I couldn't help but think that it was for a good reason. Rawlins and Cooper had said they found all the drones in the forest, but how could I know that for sure? What if there were more? What if they were making another nest? "We shouldn't go in there," I whined, voicing my thoughts. I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat.

"Don't be such a baby," Kristie muttered. If she had been trying to say it quietly, she didn't do a very good job of it.

"Kristie!" my mom admonished, turning sharply in her seat.

Though I wasn't looking at her, I could hear her roll her eyes. "Sorry, god."

Mom glared at her a moment longer before turning to look at me. "It'll be okay, sweetie. They wouldn't have opened the park if they didn't think it was safe."

When I opened my mouth to say something, I realized I had nothing rational or intelligent to say and shut it instead. It wasn't like I could say "there could be giant alien monsters in there that want to eat us." The other option was to say "there could be terrorists still in there" but that would be dismissed just as easily.

Despite the feeling of dread, I managed to sit still in my seat. I used the breathing exercises Ava taught me to keep my emotions under control. There wasn't much I could do about my heart, or the sweaty palms, but at least I wasn't freaking out.

At least, I wasn't freaking out in a way people could _see_.

We patrolled past the admission booths without picking up parking permits and I felt every muscle in my body tense. I stayed that way the entire time until we pulled up along the side of the road. Ahead I could see the picnic tables and an informational kiosk. Beyond that, trees and more trees.

Dad set up my wheelchair and I was placed into it. When I couldn't bring myself to work the chair myself, he took it upon his own power to push me along the uneven ground. We melted into the rest of the crowd, but they still parted when I came up to give me enough room. I found a strange sense of comfort in the sea of people—safety in numbers, I supposed.

Even then, the slightest rustle of leaves, a shadow cast by a shift in the trees, someone coughing abruptly—it was all enough to send me into a fit. My breathing exercises started to fail and I tried finding my dumb-ass "happy place" but that didn't work.

I told myself that it was just for a bit. Just enough to see the memorial, and then that'd be it. I'd make my parents take me home and then be over it.

And never come into this park ever again.

Or any forest.

Hiking and camping was most likely out of the question for me. Ever. Well, maybe again in a few years I could start hiking again, legs permitting. Camping, though. . . I would never do _that_ again.

Further into the picnic area I finally caught site of the large gold plaque posted on a large tree. I thought maybe it was an oak, but I had no idea. I wasn't a tree-ologist. Everyone was crowded around it and I clamped my hands down on the wheels to stop Dad from pushing me, even though it made my palms burn.

"Okaywesawitcanwegonow?"

"What?" Dad asked, leaning in toward me.

"I want to go, we saw it, so can we go?" I asked, actually enunciating.

My mom brushed passed us and glanced at me. "I want to go read it real quick."

I had to suppress the urge to shout at her, to scream and to kick. In lieu of making a horrendous scene, I clenched my fists so tight my nails bit into my palms. My sister meandered after my mom but my brother looked about as interested in going to look at the plate as he was doing his homework.

"It'll just be a moment," my dad said as he followed the rest of the family.

People continued to pass me by while I sat in my chair having a miniature heart attack. It seemed as though the trees were closing in. Every shadow cast housed monsters that wanted to tear me apart. A branch thirty yards out creaked and dipped with the wind and I put my hands over my head, fisting my hair.

It seemed like an eternity, but eventually someone stood in front of me. I heard their shoes crunch on the snow and I looked up, fingers curled and ready to scratch some eyes out.

"Baby?"

Oh. Just Mom.

I lowered my hands and stared up at her helplessly. She crouched in front of me and put her hands on my shoulders. "Honey you're shaking, are you okay?"

When I shook my head, it was a jerky motion. "I want to go home."

She nodded and stood up straight. "Alright let me go find your father and I'll be right back. Allen? Allen stay with your sister."

Though he visibly sighed, Allen still came to my side and stood there, shoulders hunched against the cold. He had been talking to one of his friends from school, but they were ushered away when Allen left them. I glanced at him and stared at my lap. "Sorry."

He looked at me and blinked. "For what?"

"Nothing," I murmured, huddling closer to myself.

Silence—save for the buzz coming from the group by the tree—descended around me and my nervousness increased. Eventually even the sound of their mingled voices faded into nothing and I found it hard to focus on any one thing for longer than a second before something else caught my attention.

I thought there was something alive in the shadows. I felt the eyes of something sinister watching me from the trees. My heart thudded against my chest, my pulse roared in my ears.

"Are you scared?" Allen asked me, interrupting the panic attack.

It must have been my breathing that caught his attention: I hadn't realized how audible it had become. I swallowed the bile in my throat and looked down in shame. "Kind of."

Without looking at me, he held his hand where I could see it. Confused, I turned my head toward him and cocked it to the side. He still didn't look at me and instead said, "You can hold my hand if you want to."

To my credit, I didn't tear up. I smiled and took his hand in mine, then waited for our parents to return. We didn't say much, but we didn't have to. Just the warmth of his hand was enough to keep me calm while our parents approached. It didn't completely chase away the feeling that I was being watched or that the shadows harbored monsters, but it was a start.


	24. Watching Over Me

**Hello readers!**

**I'm very glad so many of you are enjoying this recovery phase Nichole is going through. I was worried I was going to lose a lot of interest with a lack of action, but I felt this was necessary and it's a vital part of the story. So thank you all who have stuck with it! **

**The moment you've all been waiting for has come, so rejoice!**

**There's two more updates after this and then it's coming to an end. It's been a ride, that's for sure. Hope you all enjoy, and special thanks to my new reader Mincemeats for the beautiful piece of fanart! If you want to check it out, head on over to my profile to see the link! As always, thanks go to Citrine for helping me hash out the perfect ending.**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two

Watching Over Me

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Kristie came home with us long enough to change and pack an overnight bag before she was picked up by her friend's parents. She would be gone for the night, and my brother liked to spend all his time playing video games in his room.

When asked, I'd opted to stay on the couch in the living room with everyone else. It opened me up for criticism from my dad, but at least I was being social. For the time being I was stuck here until I could move, so I couldn't alienate myself from my family in the meantime. As much as I wanted to lock myself in my room forever, it was out of the question.

We didn't get much TV-watching done, though. As night fell, Atlas became increasingly agitated. He paced the rooms, whining and growling occasionally. Letting him outside didn't fix it, either. In fact, it usually made him worse.

"What has gotten into that dog?" Dad groaned, turning up the television. It didn't mask the sound of Atlas' barks, but it allowed us to hear what was happening in the show.

Truly, the neighbors probably knew what we were watching.

Mom sighed and walked toward the back door. "There's probably elk out there or something."

When she pounded against the window overlooking the back yard, I jumped and looked around for a would-be attacker. When I couldn't find one and instead saw Dad's perplexed expression, I settled back into the couch and tried to hide the blush creeping up my neck. I had made it easier to sleep by telling myself that Atlas would alert us if something was going on, and now he wouldn't stop. It was making me nervous.

To make matters worse, it was dark outside. If there was a drone out there, lurking, we wouldn't be able to see it.

"Atlas! Shut up!" she called after throwing open the glass.

"Just let him inside and put him in his kennel."

I leaned over the couch's armrest to peer around the wall separating the kitchen and living room. Mom unlocked the deadbolt, pulled open the wooden entry, then pushed open the screen door. It creaked loudly and she stepped outside to shout at Atlas.

"Come on boy! Get inside!" she demanded. I could see the heat leaking out of the kitchen into the cold air.

"Atlas what are you doing? It's too cold for you to stay outside!"

His barking remained at the far side of the yard, but with more shouting he came running inside like his ass was on fire. Mom locked up, then followed him into the main part of the house. "Come on, get in your kennel. Kennel up."

Despite the command, Atlas made a show of pacing between the kitchen and the couch. Even when the elk did come down the mountain he was never this crazy about it. I felt my chest tighten as I watched him, listened to him whine and whimper. My fingers clenched and unclenched while mom chased him around before finally dragging him into his kennel.

"Now calm down," she demanded. She was slightly out of breath because of the small tussle.

"Was there something out there?" I asked, trying to sound neutral.

Mom shook her head and slumped onto the couch. "Not a thing. I don't know what his problem is but he needs to chill out."

Dad turned the TV down to a more manageable volume. "Probably just some wild animal."

In his kennel Atlas seemed a bit calmer. I could still hear him whine every now and again, but it wasn't as bad as it was when he was outside. Atlas rested his head on his paws and heaved a heavy sigh as he started to realize he was stuck.

"Can he still sleep in my room tonight?" I asked, my eyes not leaving him.

Mom looked at him as well and shook her head. "No probably not, I don't want him making it harder for you to sleep if he's going to keep barking. If he's a good boy, I'll let him out, but if he keeps it up then he's staying in the kennel."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry sweetie. Can you sleep without him for one night?" she asked, stroking my head.

"She'll be fine. She shouldn't get used to it anyway, it'll just be a crutch and the dog shouldn't be sleeping in her bed anyway," said Dad. It made my cheeks burn and I glowered at my lap, currently covered by a thin blanket.

My mom reached over and smacked his shoulder. "You be nice!"

His lips thinned, but he said nothing more on the subject. I understood where he was coming from, but at the same time I didn't see the harm. So what if my sheets got some dog fur on it? That's what washing machines were for.

He should have been happy that I was using a dog to make myself feel better instead of, oh say, drugs or something. Whatever.

*:･ﾟ✧

The floor beneath me hummed as the garage door opened and closed. I wasn't sure where my dad was going, but I knew Mom wasn't with him. Even upstairs in my room I could hear her rifling around in the kitchen. Atlas was still whining occasionally in his kennel, so I was in my room alone, the TV droning with late night television. I had it turned down so I could hear it, but it wouldn't distract me while I tried to fall asleep.

It was proving difficult without Atlas' fuzzy lard-ass next to me. I tossed and turned as much as my legs allowed me to, and the occasional whimpering coming from downstairs didn't help at all: I couldn't shake the niggling feeling that there was something hanging around that was upsetting him.

I didn't know what it could be, though. There were no more drones—at least, not as far as the government was concerned—so maybe it really was only a passing herd of elk. That certainly wasn't unheard of, though it was a bit late in the season. There still could be some herds out there lagging a little bit behind, or driven into town because of all the commotion in the woods.

Bears, mountain lions. . . there was any number of things it could be.

Surely the last thing I had to worry about was more aliens?

In the end, after Mom went to bed, I took my prescribed sleeping pills and let them lead me the rest of the way to sleep land. It wasn't where I particularly wanted to be, but I also didn't care for the side effects of not sleeping—I didn't need any more hallucinations, I didn't need to be any more irritable than I already was, and the definite _last_ thing I needed was _death_.

So, sleep it was. Nightmares it was.

Even though I wasn't really trying to, I still fought the effects of the drug for another hour before I fell asleep. The last thing I was aware of was the hum of the garage door opening and closing as Dad returned from whatever late-night errand he had to run, then I was cast into a sleep full of shadows and elk with sharp teeth and beady black eyes.

Long, spindly hands groped at me in the darkness. I couldn't scream, couldn't run, couldn't move—still those hands clutched and held me down. In the distance was a sharp sound, one that I was unable to immediately place. . .

Atlas.

It was enough to draw me out of slumber, but I was unable to shake the lingering feeling of something holding me down. I struggled to roll over and opened my eyes. By now I was used to seeing silhouettes in my room, manifestations of my nightmares. Usually they faded, and I could blink them away. That still never stopped them from startling me and sending my pulse into spasms.

This one, however, didn't go away.

This one was bigger than the rest.

This one wasn't the shape I was used to.

A scream rose to my throat but the pressure on my chest moved with the shadow and a rough hand covered my mouth, effectively silencing me. It took another hand to restrain me as I thrashed about, and downstairs Atlas was snarling and barking.

"SHUT UP!" came the booming voice of my father. Not only did the dog fall silent, but even I ceased my flailing for a brief moment before starting up again.

Familiarity was chasing away the fear. The texture of the hands on me, the shape of the body looming over me. Now that Atlas was silent—or had at least quieted to whimpers again—I could hear the clicking and chittering that I had become accustomed to. My heart rate started to normalize, but I was having a hard time coming to terms with what was in front of me.

How was Wolf here?

When I at last ceased my struggles, he let go of my face and removed his other hand off my chest, letting me sit up. I stared at him for what seemed like forever, and then a flame ignited in my stomach, radiating up to my skull.

"What are you _doing here_?" I hissed through clenched teeth.

The brute leaned back and lifted an arm to ward off my thrashing hands. All I managed to do was hurt my fingers and twinge my wrist as I slapped at his arm gauntlet, but I couldn't stop. When he stepped out of my reach, I threw one of my pillows at him and he growled. "What are you doing here? How did you even _find _me?"

He unstuck the pillow from a sharp edge of his armor and it flopped dully to the ground. The metal jewelry adorning his tresses clinked together when he turned his head to look around the room. I watched him, chest heaving due to my tantrum, and he lifted his arm to slide a finger down the side of his wrist computer. A hologram projected above it, showing a mass of bright red blotches surrounding something dark blue.

I squinted and leaned forward to see it better, and realized that the red splotches were bodies and they were surrounding a tree. Right. Infrared vision. The hologram shifted, zoomed in, and focused on a one bright red light sitting down next to a small red blob.

My brother and I.

"You were there?" It came out a whisper.

Wolf turned away and walked the length of my room in a couple paces. He stopped at my wheelchair and placed his hand on the backrest, then pushed it backward and forward. My heart fell. "That's how I'm supposed to get around for a little bit."

Another glance in my direction, then he walked toward my bed and yanked the comforter off my lap. I gasped, pulled another pillow out, and then hit him with it. He snarled in surprise and reared back, shoulders squared and chest puffed out. I ignored his display and covered my lap with the thinner sheets, cheeks burning: I didn't own a nightgown, so until the stabilizers were removed, I slept without pants on.

He rumbled deep in his chest, watched me for any more signs of aggression, and then reached for the sheets again. I almost hit him with the pillow one more time, but he snapped his gaze toward me and I froze. Though I didn't think he would hurt me, I wasn't about to test his patience, either. I slowly lowered the pillow to my side and swallowed my modesty.

I was just a big mass of heat in his eyes anyway. It's not like it _meant_ anything to him. I was wearing panties anyway, so I wasn't really _naked._

When I made no further attempts to accost him, he pulled aside the sheets enough to reveal the external fixator on my left leg. I still felt the burn in my cheeks, but tried to ignore it. "It's keeping my bones together so they can heal."

Wolf ran his fingers over the large support rod. He wrapped his finger around it—and tugged.

Pain shot up my leg and I arched my back. My sharp cry cut through the relative silence of the house. Out of instinct I beat Wolf with the pillow even though he had already snatched his hand back out of surprise—and concern, I hoped.

"Don't pull on it!" I said, teeth grinding against the pain. "It's attached to bone! God dammit you're like a child!"

He reprimanded me with a sharp cuff to the ear. I glowered at the wall and let him lecture me in his strange language for a few seconds before rolling my eyes and cutting him off. "I'm sorry! Jesus, you just—caught me off guard, shit. How did you get in here, anyway?"

Before he could answer, a door opened and closed down the hall. Fear bloomed in the back of my head and I turned to Wolf, waving my hands in front of him. I wasn't afraid of the person who might be coming toward my room, I was afraid _for_ them. Afraid they might see Wolf, freak out, and get themselves hurt. "Go invisible! Someone's coming!"

I wasn't even finished talking before his body became the shadows in my room.

A faint knock reached my ears, but the person on the other side of the door didn't wait for an answer before pushing it open and peering inside.

"You okay in here, sweetie? I thought I heard you shout."

The dim night-light in the hallway cast away the shadows around my bed and I squinted against it. "I'm fine, Mom. I had a bad dream, that's it," I replied, pulling the blankets over my lap.

She leaned against the door frame and squinted at me. I could tell by the angle of her hair that she had been sleeping pretty soundly when my outburst had woken her. "Do you want me to let Atlas in? He might be more quiet in your room."

Atlas was still whining downstairs, making little _whuff_ing noises, like he was trying to bark without being loud about it.

He most certainly would not be quieter in my room.

"No." Every muscle in my face felt tight as I fought the urge to look at the spot where Wolf had disappeared. Being nonchalant with my erratic pulse was also proving difficult. "I'll be okay. I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"You sure you're okay? Do you need a glass of water or anything?"

"No," I insisted.

Mom seemed to have no intention of leaving, but finally closed the door after wishing me sweet dreams. I waited what seemed like forever for her to walk back to her room. Even after she closed her bedroom door, I counted to five, and then released the breath I had been holding. No more outbursts. I was going to have to be quiet.

Wolf was already out of cloak when I returned my attention to him. I exhaled sharply in surprise and held my hand up for him to wait while I recovered.

"How did you get in here?" I made a point to keep my voice down.

While he fidgeted with his computer, I turned on my television and pumped up the volume, that way if Mom or Dad woke up again, they would assume it was because of the show playing.

He showed me another hologram, and it took me a few seconds to realize that I was watching him sneak into the garage when Dad returned from his errand. Wolf forwarded the recording through a short time lapse while he monitored the heat signatures of Mom, Dad, and Allen, then used the door to get inside the house.

Even though I knew he had been invisible to the naked eye, it still made me a little nervous to know how easy it might be for someone to sneak into the house.

It was his turn to ask a question. He reached forward and indicated toward the center of my chest, his head inclined ever so slightly. I shook my head and lifted my hand to rub my sternum. "I don't understand."

Again he indicated toward my chest, then turned to showcase one of the decorative skulls adorning his armor.

I made an O shape with my mouth. "Oh, right." I grimaced and rubbed my face. "The government took it away when they found me. I don't think they're going to give it back. I'm sorry, there wasn't anything I could do."

Honestly, the thing was a bleak reminder of Jess' death. I probably wouldn't miss it.

For a moment I thought he would be angry with me, as he just stood there stalk still for an uncomfortable amount of time. I started to fidget, but he finally looked away.

"I'm sorry," I said again, a little more desperately than I'd meant.

He turned slightly and set his heavy hand on my head before walking around the room and looking at my things. I watched him, brow furrowed, as he approached my pile of stuffed animals. The one he picked out was an eighteen-inch lion I'd long forgotten the origin of.

"What?" I asked.

Without looking at me, he turned it over in his hands, squeezed it, ruffled the faux-fur mane, then turned toward me, raising it up. He growled an inquiry and tilted his head.

"It's a toy. It's not real."

His snort was one of disgust and he dropped it back into the pile before returning to my bed.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, a little insulted that he didn't approve of my stuffed animals. What did it matter to him?

The alien lifted a hand, palm facing up, and motioned with his fingers for me to get up.

I shook my head. "I'm not supposed to stand or walk. My legs are _broken_, remember? You made me jump off that ship? Didn't _catch_ me? This—" I made a sweeping gesture over my legs, "—is all your fault, you know."

He shook himself, his dreads swinging with the motion, and he dropped his hand. With the mask on it was hard for me to pick out the nuances of his speech, but I could at least figure he was saying some sort of admission of guilt, or maybe he was trying to tell me it _wasn't_ his fault. There was really no way for me to know. However, I just let myself believe he was apologizing. He was doing a fine job of keeping his own voice low, too.

Once more, he indicated for me to stand. "Why?" I asked. Part of me knew. Most of me didn't want to believe it.

Wolf made an exasperated sound and my voice played back to me through the mask. It sounded like he had recorded it from far away, and I recognized the clip as my voice, when we had all been at the memorial in the national park. It wasn't very loud, but it still made me look toward Mom and Dad's room. Nothing.

"Can we go?"

A lump formed in my throat and I forced it down, where it fell to the bottom of my stomach instead. Go. He was here to take me.

"You're here to abduct me?" It was a weak attempt at a joke.

He wasn't amused. I wasn't, either, and it was _my_ joke.

As if sensing my unease, he turned his body toward me and waited. It wasn't as though I didn't _want_ to go with him, but if I wasn't even going to play soccer again, what were the chances I'd be any good to him on hunts? Was he even allowed to bring me with him? Out there _I _would be the alien. Maybe he would accept me, but what about anyone else of his kind?

Especially now that I was crippled. Maybe not totally disabled, but crippled.

"Wolf. . . ." I trailed off as my body started to quiver. "I—I won't heal completely. My legs aren't going to be as strong as they used to be. I—I don't know that I'll be worthy anymore."

His scrutiny angled toward my legs and he chittered something, shaking his head.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, rubbing my forehead. "I can't understand you, you know. How is this going to work if I can't understand you? Will you even be able to teach me that language?"

He nodded and my throat went dry. So much for that excuse.

At this point I was aware I was grasping at straws. Leaving home was a scary thought. The idea had been terrifying out in the woods, and it was still terrifying. I was _safe_ here. Maybe not happy, but _safe_. Who knew if I'd be happy out in the middle of the universe with an alien? I could maybe _learn_ to be happy, but I could do that here, too.

But I was running out of excuses, especially if he didn't think my legs were going to be a problem. The thought occurred to me that he could possibly fix my legs, but that seemed too good to be true. Though they were an advanced species. . . .

"You really. . .want me to come with you?" I asked, tilting my head. What did I have to bring to the table? I was broken, I was much weaker than him. . . so what was it?

Wolf leaned in and touched the tip of his claw to the mark under my collar bone. I brushed my own fingers against the scar, so close to the blemish caused by the bite. I was covered in scars, now. The ugliest being the one on my shoulder blade—the acid burn. I would always have the surgical marks on my legs, as well. I wondered if he could see all of them even in heat vision.

"Right," I said. "This makes me one of you, doesn't it?"

I looked up as he nodded. Through the mask I could hear him say that word again—the one he had given me as an identifier—a name. I just wish I knew what it meant.

Maybe one day.

My mouth opened and closed, but I could find no words. Really, I had no more excuses to give, no more reasons for me to not go with him. What was I going to do on Earth? Trudge through life in mediocrity? Finish school with no friends, get a part time job that I was miserable in?

This could be an adventure. At least it would be _something. _Dangerous, yes. Exciting, perhaps. But it was also an unknown. And that scared me.

Would I be exclusively hunting those drones? I wasn't sure I could face them again.

Or maybe that would be good for me. Running around, killing the things that haunted my nightmares. Perhaps that would heal me faster than therapy. The skulls in that trophy room had all been different, too, so there would obviously be other game out there. . . .

The drones.

There were still some on Earth.

Eyes wide, I snapped my head up to look at Wolf, mouth open. "Wolf, there's something—" I quickly clamped it shut and looked away, down at my lap. My fingers curled into a fist around my sheets and I thought about what I was going to say before I said it.

If I told Wolf about them, he'd go find them. But what if he couldn't?

What if he _did_?

They would capture him, surely, or kill him. Then what? I couldn't let them—at this point, I was in a better position to see what those drones were up to, what the government was doing to them.

I was in the better position to _get rid of them_.

At least for a little while I could stall this trip into space. I could get my head together, I could _heal_. I could maybe even. . .become something _better. _

That was what I told myself. I held on to that thought like a lifeline. With it, I could pretend I wasn't scared out of my mind of going into space, hanging out with an alien. If I seized on to the belief that I had something to do before I could go with him, then I wasn't telling him _no_. I was telling him to _wait_ for a little while.

Taking a deep breath, I looked up at Wolf and squared my shoulders, set my jaw. "I can't go with you right now. Not yet, anyway."

He leaned back and tilted his cranium so little that I thought I had imagined it.

I lifted my hand to keep him from jumping to conclusions. "There's something I have to do here first. Unfinished business. As—" I floundered for a reason that would he would buy. Something that would appeal to his nature. It clicked and I gained confidence in my speech. "—as a warrior. I need to do this before I can go with you."

Wolf seemed to consider that. We stared at each other and I tried to keep my expression as flat and confident as his mask's expression. Wolf squared his shoulders at last and dropped his chin, holding the position for a moment.

Relief washed through me and I returned the gesture, then leaned forward and lifted my outturned wrist. "I promise. When you come back, I'll be even more worthy."

His shoulders shook with that strange chuckle of his and he bumped his wrist against mine. So he wasn't mad. At least, I didn't _think_ he was mad. I thought I had a pretty good handle on how to tell his emotions apart, but with that mask. . . That mask always looked so angry.

"Will you stay and wait, or leave?" I asked after a moment.

It took him a moment to think about it—or consider how to answer in a way that I would understand. Finally he tilted his head and an unfamiliar voice echoed out of his mask. I wondered how long he kept sound clips around for occasions such as this.

"Time."

What? I furrowed my brow and shook my head. He chittered in a way that I remembered was a question, and then repeated the word. "Time."

Oh.

"It'll be a week before I can walk again, and there's. . .something I have to look into. So, at least give me a week. In seven days, I'll come out into my backyard," I gestured in the general direction, "and wait for you there with an update."

He nodded in understanding and I hastily added, "After sunset." Another nod.

I sighed. A week. I had a week to come to a more permanent decision. A week to figure out what my long-term plans were going to be, when I was going to be able to get to see these drones that the government had. After that I'd be able to figure out what I could do about them, if I should tell Wolf of their existence. . . .

One step at a time.

Wolf stepped up and gave me a rough little shake, his hand on my shoulder, and then turned toward the door. "Wait," I said, lifting a hand. When he turned to look at me, I shifted so my legs were draped over the side of the bed. "I'll have to let you out."

When I reached for my chair, he pushed it away and chittered rapidly at me. I huffed and turned a glare toward him. "I'm not supposed to walk."

A single word played back at me after a pause. "Supposed."

Well, he had me there. I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Yes, _supposed_. It's not good for me to walk early, I could hurt myself again."

I edged toward the end part of my bed and reached for my wheelchair again, but for a second time he shoved it away. Instead of uttering an admonishment, he smacked me upside the head. I snarled through my clenched teeth. "_Fine_."

Warily, I leaned forward and put my weight on my legs. They trembled under the pressure and I got about as far as I had when I attempted to walk that morning—about two and a half steps.

Wolf was there, though, offering his thick arm as support when I nearly crumpled to the floor. I gladly used his arm to pull myself back up and was relieved when he didn't take it away. Though I tried not to make him hold much of my weight, I still needed to lean into him.

Two weeks off my legs and they already hated being walked on.

Once out of my room, though, there wasn't any way we were both going down the stairs side by side. Wolf was simply too. . .wide. He dropped his arm and I switched to the wall, and then to the handrail. Each step was torture and every creak the stairs made elicited a wince. Without fail I stopped to listen, to see if anyone was coming to investigate. No one ever did.

Atlas was the only person who seemed to realized I was coming down the stairs. I could hear him shuffling in his kennel, whimpering quietly. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, that quickly changed into a flurry of snarls and other savage sounds.

"Atlas, shh!" I pleaded, glancing up the stairs every half a second.

Wolf pointed in Atlas' direction and I waved him off. "He's fine. In a cage. He's gonna wake everyone up, though. Let's hurry."

It was easier said than done. When I tried to make haste, I ended up causing myself undue pain. No matter what I said, Atlas continued to alert the whole house that there was an alien in it. As soon as we hit the landing, Wolf grabbed my arm and hoisted me up. Not enough to carry me, but enough that I could amble toward the back door.

I fumbled with the lock in the dark, feeling around with my arms outstretched. Upstairs, my dad shouted at the dog and I heard the door open.

"Shit shit shit," I hissed between my teeth.

Finally the latch turned and I pulled the door open, leaning heavily on it and shoving open the screen door. "Remember, seven days!"

He nodded and vanished into thin air. I waited until his footsteps hit the grass, then closed the doors quietly before slumping to the floor. That small trek alone had strained my underused leg muscles so much that standing on my own was difficult. The fixators radiated pain that brought tears to my eyes.

"Nichole, is that you?"

The light overhead flicked on and my eyes were assaulted with the glare. I squinted and lifted an arm—at least this way I would look properly confused.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" It was Dad. No sooner were the words out of his mouth that he was scooping me up into his arms. I blinked away the brightness in my eyes and looked around. I had to think fast, come up with an explanation.

"I—I'm not. . .where. . . ? How did I get—"

Dad turned the kitchen light off with his shoulder and heaved me back up the stairs. "Were you sleep walking or something? How did you get down the stairs? Did you crawl?"

"I don't know, I'm not sure," I said, tripping over my words.

When in doubt, feign ignorance.

"Dad? What's going on?" Allen's sleepy voice came from somewhere in the dark.

Kicking my door open wider with his foot, Dad paused at the threshold and leaned back. "Nothing, just go back to sleep."

"Is Nichole okay?"

"I'm okay, bud. Just—did a little bit of sleep-crawling, I guess." I was glad Mom didn't also come out to see what was happening. Allen accepted my story with little more questions and I heard his bedroom door close.

It was a good thing my family thought I was crazy already. Dad merely sighed and set me back in bed, then dragged my wheelchair closer to me. "Am I going to have to start locking you in your room?"

I was slightly mortified my Dad saw me without pants on, but I would have to take solace in the fact that he might not remember much of this in the morning. Really should have thought this whole thing through. "I don't think so. . . it was probably a fluke, maybe."

"I hope so. At least that stupid dog let us know what was going on. Good night."

"Good night," I replied, seconds before he shut the door.

Sighing, I leaned back against my pillows and closed my eyes. Sleep was out of the question now: I had too much to think about. Too much to process.

And only one week to get my shit sorted out.


	25. Loud and Clear

**Hello readers!**

**Second to last chapter! The last one will be up sometime tonight, as they were originally one chapter but it was so big I split it in half. Enjoy! Thanks for all your support, and thanks for Citrine for her amazing beta-ing skills, otherwise these chapters would be 3000 instances of the word "just".**

**~Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three

Loud and Clear

For some reason the two stooges were late, so Ava spoke with me for half an hour before they finally showed. She was becoming more and more successful at opening me up to speak with her. I hated it, but it was also relieving to have someone to talk with about my experience.

Inevitably, the agents walked into the room with their usual items: folders galore. "Sorry we're late, we had to make a stop."

"That's fine, I wish you guys would not show up at all some days," Ava shot back.

Cooper glared at her, but otherwise let the comment slide.

"We'll be out of your hair soon enough. We have the things Nichole asked for," Rawlins said, carefully placing a small stack of papers in front of me.

Pictures.

My hands started trembling as I picked up the three sheets of paper, skimming the contents. They were on regular paper, like they had printed them from an email.

And they barely revealed anything.

No matter how long I stared at them, they refused to share with me their secrets. I spread them out before me, trying to paint myself a picture. On either side of the pile, my clenched fists sat on the table. It was the only way I could myself from shaking.

"Is this it?" I asked after several minutes, my teeth grinding.

Rawlins nodded. "They didn't clear us for anything more than those. Sorry."

"You should be glad you got even that much," said Cooper.

I shot him a look and picked up the center picture. Each one was dark, but I could make out sleek forms behind thick glass panes. It looked like they had already gotten busy turning the whole cage into their hive, making it harder to see inside. Equipment—or rather, pieces of equipment—sat around the edges.

"This is secure?" I was dubious, and set the sheet back down.

Nodding, Rawlins moved to my side of the table and pointed to the glass. "This is a foot of reinforced, bullet-proof glass. There is only one door, and it only opens with a code. No one is to use it without clearance. There's no other means to get in and out, unless they can somehow get through the ventilation slits here, which we can seal remotely in case of emergencies."

It all sounded well and good, but I remained unconvinced. "If they do get out?"

"Impossible," Cooper scoffed. I wondered if he was always a dick or if it was only shtick.

We ignored him, as usual. "If they somehow escape, we flash the lab. If that doesn't work, the entire building goes into lockdown until reinforcements arrive."

"What does that mean? 'Flash the lab'?" I asked, eyes narrowed.

"It means," Cooper said, "we push a button and the entire lab burns, hopefully incinerating the little suckers."

That still wasn't good enough. Not by a long shot.

They were immune to _acid_, would they really burn?

"Can I get in to see them?"

There was a long moment of silence and then Cooper shook his head. "No. No it's not possible. It took us a lot of favors to get the security clearance for those pictures alone. Just put that thought out of your head right now."

I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest, pouting like a child. At least I was trying, but even if they allowed me, there was no way it was going to happen in a week. It wasn't like I would be able to come up with a plan on the flight over, no way I was going to be able to pull of killing the three things with the state I was in now.

"Can you at least tell me what you've learned about them?" I asked. I needed to get them talking so I could formulate some kind of plan. I wouldn't be able to face Wolf if I couldn't. Well, maybe I could but I didn't _want_ to.

The two shared a look and Cooper shrugged. "We don't have a real name for them right now, so we're just calling them 'xenomorphs.'"

"What does that mean?"

"It's a general term for extraterrestrial life until a more permanent name can be decided," Rawlins explained. "It means 'alien form'."

Xenomorph. I rolled the name around in my noggin. I'd been thinking of them all as drones this whole time, but that was only a role they played. Not all of them were drones, like how there were warrior ants and scout ants.

"Do you call. . .the other alien, the one with the ship, that?" It was hard not calling Wolf by his name in front of those chumps. Well, the name I gave him, anyway.

Cooper shook his head. "We've been referring to them as 'predators' mostly."

Fitting, if lacking in creativity.

Rawlins leaned in and gathered up the pictures, then shoved them into a folder. "If that's it, we'll leave you two now. We don't have any more questions, but we'll be in contact if we require your cooperation again."

"You're leaving?" I asked, leaning forward. They couldn't leave—not yet. Not until I could convince them to destroy those. . .xenomorphs, or let me see them.

Both agents nodded. "We have to go back now. Ava will be relocated here until she thinks your therapy can be moved to someone outside of our network. Your physical therapy will be overseen by the local doctors. . . We're getting out of your hair."

"No!" It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Everyone looked at me with varying forms of curiosity and I blushed under their gazes. "I mean—I—I want to speak to your superior!"

Eyes narrowed, Cooper crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you mean?"

"The person in charge of you, I want to speak to them."

"Why?" he demanded. Rawlings remained silent.

My jaw bobbed up and down as I tried to come up with an answer, then I shook my head. "That's between your boss and me."

The two shared another look, then Rawlins sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, we'll ask if he can come down and have a word with you next week. We'll contact Ava when we figure out whether or not he'll see you."

I opened my mouth to protest, to demand a more solid answer, but I closed it in the end and leaned back in my seat. It was probably the best I was going to get. "Okay. But I need you to tell me _before_ Tuesday, okay? Have Ava call me, I'll give you my number, whatever. I just _need_ to know before then, okay?"

Cooper was suspicious again. "Why?"

"That's none of your business," I snorted in response.

"We'll let you know before then," Rawlings agreed, smiling warmly at me. "It's been a pleasure. We'll leave you two to it."

Rawlins led Cooper out of the room, leaving me with Ava and my mental issues. Everything hinged on whether their boss would see me or not. If he wasn't going to, I was going to have to cut my losses and leave them with the drones. There wasn't any point on me staying here if they weren't going to allow me anywhere near them.

This was my last chance. If it didn't work, then I would have to let Wolf abduct me and hope the government knew what it was doing.

*:･ﾟ✧

Their stares cut through me like knives. They weren't hostile, but unwanted nonetheless. My crutches clacked noisily in the silent classroom as I made my way to my desk, each step tightening around my chest like a vice.

I didn't belong in this room, with these people.

These days I wasn't sure where I belonged. Wherever it was, it wasn't sitting quietly while some teacher prattled on about a topic I didn't care about. It wasn't with people I couldn't get close to, didn't _want_ to get close to.

Doctor Anderson was my new physician for PT. Walking with the crutches was still cumbersome and caused an ache, but I was making progress and I refused to so much as _look_ at a wheelchair anymore. I wasn't going to impress Wolf with my sitting down skills. The faster I started walking, the easier it was going to become.

Something told me Wolf wouldn't be impressed with the crutches, either.

If I ended up going with him, would he be able fix my legs? _Could_ he fix my legs? It seemed like too much to hope for.

"Welcome back, Nichole. It's good to see you out and about, making a recovery," Mrs. Brookes greeted me. She turned to address the class. "Please try not to bug Nichole too much, let's all give her time to readjust."

Great. My hands clenched the crutches a little tighter. I just wanted to be ignored.

The third year Statistics classroom was devoid of everyone but five people, but I felt like an entire stadium was staring at me as I lowered myself into my seat and set my crutches against the back of my chair. Even with only five people in the classroom, everyone still seemed to be sitting in their assigned seats.

When I settled in, the teacher started her lecture. I pulled out my notebook and pens, followed by my textbooks, but it was all for appearances. I didn't even know if I was going to be here next week to continue my studies.

Even if I was, I still wouldn't want anything to do with school, with my classmates. All of this was temporary. How would social studies and math help me while I was hurdling across the galaxy?

I still hadn't heard back from the agents or Ava, and I was beginning to get anxious.

Had Dad not forced me to go in that day, I would have asked for another week off, but he figured that the sooner I got out of the house, the better. "Fresh air will do you some good," he'd said right before dropping me off. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"How are you feeling?"

The whispered voice startled me back into my present mind and I glanced over to the desk next to me. It was on one of my soccer teammates. Rather: _former_ soccer teammates.

"Fine," I replied out of habit. The real answer was more complicated but what did they care?

At the front of the room the teacher had fallen silent and when I turned my gaze forward I found her staring at the two of us. My cheeks burned and I looked down at my notebooks. How far behind was I? A week? Two weeks?

Oh wait, it didn't matter.

This was only the second class of the day and I was already counting down the minutes that I could go home and brood some more.

Halfway through the lecture, my phone started to buzz in my pocket. I flinched like I'd been hit, gaining the attention of a few classmates. Cheeks burning, I glanced around and muttered a quiet apology before reaching into my pocket and hitting the side button to stop the vibrations.

I knew it was Ava. It had to be. Or one of the agents, though I wasn't sure if they had my number. Ava had requested it as soon as I had a new cell phone, insisting that I call her at any hour of the day for whatever reason. She had said she wanted to be able to help me at any moment in cases of emergencies.

On my desk my hands trembled. My phone felt like it weighed a thousand pounds in my pocket, dragging me down. I considered for a moment that it was Mom being herself, trying to check in and leave me a stupid message like "Hey sweetie, just wanted to wish you a good day, I love you!"

If that was the case, I was going to be so mad.

For the rest of the class I had the terrible urge to pull my phone out long enough to check my missed call log. I didn't want to get in trouble my first day, but near the end of Statistics I couldn't ignore it anymore. When the teacher had her back turned, I whisked my phone from my pocket and pulled up the missed calls.

Relief was quickly chased away by apprehension. Those red letters spelling Ava's name were a beacon in this otherwise desolate wasteland of my life, my first chance at figuring out where my life was headed. An icon sat in my notification bar and my pulse throbbed behind my eyes.

One voicemail message.

My fingers trembled, causing the phone to shake. If it was a yes, then that was my opportunity. If it was a no, well then the FBI was on its own. I could only hope that they would be able to handle it.

Surely they had a slight idea of what they were getting themselves into.

The bell shrieked and the sound of my own desperate cry mingled with it. I stood abruptly, phone skittering across the floor, and I shoved my chair back. My crutches clattered to the ground and I stumbled over the legs of my desk, but fought to stay upright despite the sharp pain in my thighs.

"Nichole?"

My whole body trembled as I came back to reality. I was gulping air and felt unsteady on my feet, but someone was holding my crutches out to me, their eyes wide. It was Louise, the girl who had asked if I was alright earlier. I stared at her for a moment, then slowly took my crutches and let them take my weight, relieving my legs.

"Nichole are you okay?" Mrs. Brookes asked. She had already wound her way through the desks and was standing before me.

When I nodded, it was jerky and forced. I shifted my weight to the left crutch and rubbed my face with my palm. Over the sound of whispers I heard them—the snickers and the jibes. "I'm fine. It just. . .startled me, that's all."

"If you need to go home—"

"No," I hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm fine."

Without another word, I turned and shoved my belongings into my bags. Mrs. Brookes hovered, then turned toward the rest of the students, no matter how few. "Read chapters ten and eleven tonight and complete the worksheets at the end of each. Class dismissed."

I waited until the room had cleared to leave—I didn't really want to fight to get through the door—picked up my phone, and hurried to my locker as fast I could. Once there, I struggled to remember my combination, but finally pulled the door open. It was difficult to stand against one crutch so I could shove the next class' workbooks in my backpack, but I managed.

Then, I had to check my phone.

Around me other students chattered and laughed. I called my voicemail and covered my other ear with a hand to block out the background noise.

Ava's voice chased away the vestiges of my fear. _"Hello Nichole! It's Ava! I heard back from the goon squad, and they said they can arrange a meeting. He won't be able to fly out right away, but he'll be able to see you during our next session. After that, I'll have you all to myself! No need to call me back unless you want to. Have a good day!"_

The messaged ended a lady's voice went through my options and I deleted the message, fingers shaking. This was it, then. My plan was set into motion, and I knew what I was going to tell Wolf.

"Raah!"

It was right in my ear, and something grabbed my shoulder. Once again my phone slipped out of my fingers. My muscles tensed so much it hurt and I swung without thinking, slamming my crutch into the leg of whatever was standing there. There was a sharp cry, and then they hit the ground. I lifted the crutch to take another swing but—

—it was just a person. One of the guys from the Statistics class. He probably thought it would be funny to startle me once more.

I wanted to feel sorry for him, but I couldn't. Once my pulse started to stabilize, I looked down at him with disdain. The desire to smack him again was strong, but one I could resist. He had one hand up, the other clutching his shin where I'd hit it.

"Jesus Christ! It was only a joke!"

Scoffing, I leaned down to pick up my phone. "Well I'm not laughing."

"What is going on here? Danny, Ni—oh. Uh, welcome back Nichole." The teacher that came to investigate was one of the music teachers. I had been in his class when I played the flute, but that hadn't lasted long. They were required classes, but I had absolutely no musical talent so I dropped it as soon as I'd completed the credit.

"She hit me! With her stupid crutch!" Danny said, getting up with a wince. I was glad the teacher said his name, or else I would have never remembered it.

Mr. Anderson turned toward me, brow furrowed. "Is that true?"

I shrugged and motioned toward him dismissively. "He thought it would be funny to scare me."

Hands on his hips, Mr. Peters turned toward Danny. "Now what would make you think that's a good idea?"

Danny averted his gaze and hunched his shoulders. "I don't know."

"Get out of here," Mr. Peters sighed, pushing him away. "If you need to, go to the nurse and get an ice pack."

People were stopping to watch, whispering among themselves. I ignored their gawks and started toward class, but Mr. Peters asked me to come with him to his office. It was troublesome, but so would denying his request be. He was probably going to tell me not to beat people with my crutches, or tell me that if I needed anything I could talk with him.

So transparent.

All of this was temporary, I kept telling myself.

He unlocked his classroom and allowed me to enter first before indicating for me to take a seat in front of his desk. The room was built with levels, like a real orchestra. Stands lined each one in front of chairs. I pushed one of the music stands aside before sitting and waiting for Mr. Peters.

"How's your first day coming back?" he asked as he took his own seat behind the desk.

I shrugged and stared at my lap. "Fine I guess."

He nodded. "Well, just so you know the teachers here are all more than willing to help. If you have any issues with the students here, if they give you a hard time, don't be afraid to speak up."

"Sure, thanks." Well, I'd been pretty close.

"That being said," he continued, rapping the top of his desk with his knuckles, "you probably should try hard not hit the other students."

Fire burned in my chest and I leaned forward. "Mr. Peters I didn't mean to, he—"

A raised hand cut me off and I clamped my teeth together. "I understand you went through a lot and it wasn't smart of him to play a joke like that. You're not in trouble, I just have to make sure to bring it up with you, okay?"

Begrudgingly, I nodded.

The warning bell rang and I exhaled sharply, twitching in my seat. When I looked back up at Mr. Peters, he was giving me a sympathetic smile. "I'll give you a note in case you're late to your next class."

While he scribbled said note, I collected my things and struggled to stand. I took the piece of paper and thanked him before heading to the door. When he called out to me, I barely even slowed down. "Remember, you can talk to us if you need to!"

I didn't want to talk. Not to him, not to anyone at this school. The only person I wanted to speak to was Wolf, and that was still days away.

_Just a little longer_, I told myself.


	26. We Carry On

**Hello, readers!**

**This is the last chapter of Phantasm! Don't worry, this obviously isn't the end for Nichole and Wolf. ;) I'll see you guys in the next installment (and if I decide to write an epilogue. Who knows). Thanks for sticking with me through this whole thing, seeing Nichole through the first of many trials and tribulations. **

**See you guys soon!**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

We Carry On

The rest of the week continued about how I had expected it to. I'd lost the majority of my friends in one fell swoop, and now people weren't sure how to act around me. I endured their stares and their whispers that first day, and I continued to do so. If anything, I could be grateful that I didn't have anyone trying to scare me. Not after I had laid Danny out.

It was fine, though, that they left me alone. The less people I tried to attach to or tried to attach to me, the easier it would be when I left.

That weekend I played catch up. Several students from my classes had been more than happy to share the notes I'd missed, and the teachers had completely dismissed the work I hadn't completed, telling me to do my best for the rest of the year. I took copies of the notes with my Dad's printers, intent on returning them to their owners the next time I was at school.

Homework was even more of a chore than I remembered, but it was a good distraction. Busy work while I tried to figure out what I was going to say to Wolf when I saw him.

I had more trouble with it than I wanted. Guilt crept up my spine like a weed, convincing me that he was going to be disappointed. Why, I wasn't really sure. How would this disappoint him? He was probably doing _me _a favor by taking me away from this. Could he really want a human to take care of?

Apparently, otherwise he wouldn't have gone through this much trouble already.

The days passed by too quickly. As the sun started to dip below the horizon on Tuesday night, I felt an overwhelming sense of dread. It sat at the bottom of my stomach like a stone. I found a very difficult series of emotions—I was looking forward to seeing him, but I was not looking forward to telling him what I needed to tell him.

What had he been doing for the past seven days, anyway? What did he eat? He most likely had a ship somewhere, maybe he chilled out there. Maybe he hunted bears or something. Imagining that made me smile—he would have fought it hand-to-hand, probably.

Stupid macho alien.

"What are you doing in your heavy clothes?" Mom asked as I struggled down the stairs.

I took a moment to concentrate, then answered her once I was safely down the steps. "I'm gonna go outside for a little bit. Get some fresh air."

"It's getting dark out, though."

"I want to see the stars."

Mom and Dad glanced at each other, then shrugged. "Alright sweetie. Stay warm, okay? It's supposed to snow some more tonight. Don't stay out too long?"

Nodding, I opened the door to the backyard, told Atlas to stay and locked the doggy door, then made my way through the mush of half-melted snow toward the swing set. Dad had installed the sandbox and small playground when Allen was born so we all had a reason to go outside—because living five minutes away from any number of hiking trails wasn't good enough.

The last thing I wanted to do was let Wolf see me walking with crutches, so I tossed them aside once I reached the swings and wasted time with practicing some of the exercises my new doctor had given me. They made my legs ache, but it was a good kind of pain.

Finally, the sun disappeared and the stars came out, twinkling in the heavens. I leaned back in the swing and stared up at them, wondering if they'd look any bigger in space.

Back in the house, I heard Atlas barking. I sat up a little straighter and looked around. It was dark now and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to see Wolf the same way I could when it was bright out. I had barely been able to make out the shimmering effect on the ship, and there had been at least light. Now that it was clear to me that he didn't _need _the light to see, it must have been a secondary effect.

I heard a creak toward the house and turned toward it in time to see Atlas come tearing across the yard toward me, ears flopping with each step. "Mom, what are you doing?" I demanded.

"Atlas won't shut up, I think he wants to be out with you. The doggy door got locked somehow. Throw the ball for him a couple times," she suggested before going back inside. I opened my mouth to protest, but her shadow was already disappearing back into the living room.

Whining, Atlas shoved his nose under my hand, tail wagging. He occasionally turned toward the trees behind our fence and growled, but I always shut him down.

"Now Atlas," I said quietly, taking his face in both of my hands. He tried to pull away a couple times, but I forced him to look at me. I gently massaged his cheeks and touched my nose to his. "I have a visitor coming, okay? You're _going_ to be nice to him okay? Otherwise he might try to kill you and I really don't want that."

His only response was a gentle whine, followed by a lick to my face. I spluttered and pulled back, wiping my nose on my sleeve. "No kisses!"

He whimpered, but his tail was still wagging.

"Alright I'm glad we understand each other," I chuckled, letting his head go. "Now where's your ball? Go get your ball!"

The reaction was instantaneous. The moment the word "ball" was out of my mouth, he was flitting across the yard, frantically searching for one of his many tennis balls. He found two and somehow managed to bring both of them to me after some trouble getting them both in his mouth. I rolled my eyes and picked the less slobbery of the two.

"I can only throw one, you stupid dog," I cooed. He backed up a few paces, tongue lolling from his mouth, and I wiggled the ball in the air, making him twitch with anticipation. Finally, I flung the ball across the yard. "Fetch!"

Atlas chased after the ball each time I threw it until he was too tired to continue—which was fine with me, my arm was getting tired as well. We played fetch for probably fifteen minutes before he stopped and flopped to the ground. I watched him chew on the tennis ball for a little bit before I called over to him.

"C'mere boy."

He picked up the ball and trotted over to me, dropping it in the snow-covered sand. It was past the slobber threshold for me—the consistency was a little too similar to _theirs_ for my comfort—so I didn't touch it, but I did pick up the other ball and throw that. Atlas observed it fly across the yard, ears perked, and turned his body. I didn't miss the way his fur stood on end and his hackles raised. I didn't miss the deep, guttural growl rumbling in his chest.

"Atlas," I crooned, leaning forward to pet his rump. He didn't even flinch. The growl grew in volume, and then he lowered his head and peeled his lips away from his teeth.

Perfect. This was exactly what I had been trying to avoid. I doubted Wolf would kill my dog, but I wasn't positive. It was more of a hunch than an educated guess. "This is the visitor I was telling you about, come here and sit."

There was no budging him. He stayed right there in front of me, warning off whoever was in front of us.

Finally, Wolf showed himself. Atlas didn't move or start barking, but his growl turned into a more menacing snarl. I reached out and took the tip of his tail in my hand, wiggling it a little bit, but he didn't so much as glance back at me.

Sighing, I pushed out of the swing and carefully lowered myself into the sand next to him. I knew I had to be cautious around a dog during their threat display, but I was sure he wouldn't hurt me on purpose. He finally acknowledged me, but did not relax. "It's alright," I whispered, rubbing his neck. Then I looked up to Wolf and nodded. "He _shouldn't _hurt you."

From where I was, I barely made out the derisive sound Wolf made before he ambled toward us. Atlas stiffened under my arms, and when Wolf was too close for his comfort, he pulled out of my grasp and ran to meet Wolf.

I was terrified he was going to attack, but to my relief he stopped a couple feet from the alien, barking at him. Worried—not just that Atlas was in danger but that one of my parents would come to investigate—I staggered to my feet and stumbled toward them. Each step made me grit my teeth and I wanted to get down and crawl, but I had to be strong. I had to prove to Wolf that I wasn't easily deterred by injuries.

Wolf looked down at Atlas, head tilted, and squatted in front of him. Atlas took a step back, but didn't stop growling and baring his teeth. Wolf growled back at him, but Atlas didn't waver.

At last I reached them and I managed to keep myself from collapsing while I fought to kneel down without collapsing. I was careful to make sure Atlas knew I was there before I wrapped my arms around his hips. The dog turned long enough to slap me with his tongue, then gave Wolf his undivided attention and one last growl before he fell silent.

The two of them stared at each other, and then Wolf turned toward me and rattled off a question. I pulled Atlas closer to me, who always adjusted to keep as much of his fuzzy body between me and the alien as possible. He kept his tail straight, his tongue hung from his maw as he panted, and his eyes always darted back to Wolf.

"I can't go with you." I blurted it out, unable to find a better way to say it.

He tilted his head.

"I have. . .things to hunt here. Until I. . .finish this hunt, I won't be ready to come with you. But when I'm done. . . I'll be ready." It had taken almost the whole week to compose this in a way he'd understand, and still I found it hard to say it without wavering. The "interrogations" with Cooper and Rawlins had helped.

They were hunters—that was their culture.

For a few minutes Wolf considered me. As he started to stand, I let go of Atlas and stood on shaky legs, but I kept my head high and met his impassive gaze without wavering. I was trembling, afraid he would be angry with me.

When he finally responded, he dipped his head and reached out once more to shake my shoulder. I had the presence of mind to return the gesture, though it compromised my balance and nearly toppled me. I was relieved he understood, but I wasn't sure how exactly he was going to know when to come back.

"I'll find a way to contact you. I don't. . .know how, but I will," I said with a sharp nod.

His shoulders shook with his rumbling laughter and he lifted his arm with the computer. I watched him with mild interest as he punched in a sequence, then unhooked the computer part from his wrist and handed it to me.

It wasn't too heavy, but I still had to compensate when it was heavier than I expected. I looked it over, then stared up at Wolf, waiting for an explanation.

He leaned forward and mimed a sequence a couple times. After the third time, I mimicked him, indicating toward the weird symbols in the order he showed. He nodded and motioned for me to repeat the sequence a few more times. When I did so with more and more confidence, he finally pulled away with a satisfied nod of his head.

"If I do that, you'll know to come?"

Another nod.

Okay, that was a start. I felt a little excited twist in my stomach. He would just be a phone call away, kind of. "Won't it take you years to travel across the universe to come back?"

Wolf rattled his response and indicated in the negative. I figured he still wouldn't come back within a day, maybe not even a week, but at least it wouldn't be years from the signal. I wondered if it was hooked up to his ship, but I figured it didn't matter how it worked, just that it _did_.

"What if it runs out of power?" I asked.

At first he didn't immediately answer. I watched him and waited for a response, but I was forced to take in his body language—expanded chest, squared shoulders. . . oh. I lowered my head and smiled sheepishly. "I guess that's a stupid question."

He reached out, rattling quietly, and we bumped wrists before he turned. I thought he was going to leave, but he seemed to remember something and turned back toward me. I tilted my head to the side, shivering from the cold. With the night dragging on, the temperature had dropped. It was also becoming painful to stand on my own, and I hoped he left soon so I could grab my crutches.

There was something attached to his waist, and he untied it. With one hand he held it out to me and I accepted it without hesitation. It was another piece of jewelry, this time lined with sharp yellow teeth the size of my pinky fingers.

I looked up at Wolf, my mouth slightly open. "Is this—are these from the queen?"

Nodding, he pointed at the spot on my chest where the mark was, then to the strap of leather with teeth strung to it. The chittering he made had no meaning to me, but I thought I understood the gist of what he was saying.

Though I couldn't mount the skull on my wall, it was as much my trophy as it was his. He made the killing blow, but I wasn't exactly a bystander, either.

My fingers tightened around the trinket, careful not to poke myself on the sharp fangs, and I brought it in close to my chest. This held so much more value than the one he had given me before. This one celebrated a victory, not a defeat. I was going to make sure the government didn't get a hold of this one. I would have to be careful to keep the computer hidden, too.

"Thank you. For everything," I said.

Wolf inclined his head and looked to Atlas, who hadn't made a peep since I'd shown no discomfort. The dog's muscles were still tense, but at least he was quiet. Wolf chuffed a few words, assumed to be for the dog, and then he disappeared into the shadows. I couldn't even hear his footsteps on the slowly freezing slush, and I could scarcely make out his shimmering form as he jumped over my six foot fence.

Then he was gone, vanished into the trees.

I waited a couple minutes longer, then half-crawled and half-walked back to the sandbox to fetch my crutches. My legs were on fire, demanding rest, but I still had to make it into the house.

Still had to sneak my new belongings up to my room.

*:･ﾟ✧

"Are you kidding me?"

"No," I said, arms crossed over my chest. "He snuck up behind me, grabbed my shoulder, and shouted in my ear."

Huffing, Ava tapped her pencil against her little notepad and shook her head. She had asked me about school, and we talked about ways to deal with my jumpiness, so I decided to tell her about the incident with Danny. "What did you do after that?"

I looked down at my lap and worried a stray thread from my jeans. The legs were safety-pinned back together, but the cut edges had started to fray. "I hit him with my crutches."

She rubbed her face and sighed. "After fighting for your life I wouldn't blame you."

"Yeah, no one really blamed me."

"Good, good." Ava smiled. "But hopefully you didn't hurt him too bad?"

"No," I said, raising my eyebrows. "He probably has a bruised shin, though."

"Is that your general reaction when you feel threatened like that? To attack?" she asked, turning on her "therapist voice."

Shrugging, I finally pulled the thread free. "I guess so."

"That's normal. Everyone has the fight or flight reflex, you just happen to have a strong fight reflex. Nothing wrong with that at all. Do you ever. . .have flashbacks when you're startled?"

I shook my head. "I mean, no? Well. . . I don't know. I don't really. . ._see_ the things, but the bell reminded me of the sound they make. And when he grabbed me. . .I guess I kind of. . .thought the thing was trying to grab me again.

She nodded and scribbled down a note.

Ava moved out of her chair when our conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. I turned in my seat to track her progress, and when she opened it a familiar man greeted her. I recognized him from the press conference.

"Hello, Ava. I'm sorry I'm late. Nichole wanted to see me?"

"Ah, yes!" Ava said, clapping once. She stepped aside to allow Mr. Dixon inside the office. "Thank you for coming, I know it means a lot to Nichole."

"Yes, so I heard." Mr. Dixon looked anything but happy to be there. When he spotted me, he nodded a greeting and summoned a smile to his rugged face. "I trust Ava told you I was coming to see you today?"

"Yes, thank you for coming," I said, more as a formality.

An awkward silence descended until Ava cleared her throat and clasped her hands together. "Nichole, would you like me to stay here with you while you two talk, like I have been with Agents Cooper and Rawlins?"

I looked up at her, then smiled and shook my head. "No, I'd. . .actually like to talk to him alone, if you think that's okay?"

She hesitated, but agreed nonetheless. "Yes. I'll be right outside the door."

Smiling, I thanked her.

Mr. Dixon readjusted his suit while Ava stepped outside, closing us into the room alone. The click sounded almost final. Mr. Dixon glanced behind him, then put his hands in his pocket and looked at me. "I hope my agents treated you well?" he asked.

Small talk. I had been hoping to avoid it, but alas.

"As well as possible," I said. I started to stand, using the chair as support.

The director removed one hand from his pocket and took a step toward me. "No—there's no need to stand."

Ignoring him, I walked around the chair to face him properly. I had been imagining this since Ava had left me the message. After the speech I gave Wolf, failure was not an option. No matter what it took, I had to convince this man. If I didn't, there was no way I was going to be able to call Wolf back. I wouldn't have the trophies I needed.

He scrutinized me, then let his hand fall to his side. "So. . .what is you need?"

Taking a breath, I squared my shoulders and tried to stop my legs from trembling. "I want you to tell me what it's going to take for you to hire me."


	27. Epilogue

**Hello readers!**

**I decided to write an epilogue, after all. I know you're all wondering when the sequel will start being posted, but it might not be until after April. I have a little side-story ready to go to keep you all from getting withdrawals (ha kidding), and I should start posting that in a couple days. I have a lot of planning to do for the next installment, but I'll try not to keep you waiting. **

**Thanks again for all of your support! :D It means a lot to me.**

**~Crayola**

* * *

Epilogue

Take it Back

I had to look the part. I had to act the part. I couldn't give them any reason to be suspicious of my motives. I had been careful, meticulous even. What did they have to be suspicious of, anyway?

_"There's a lot of rigorous training. You think you can handle it?"_

Uncomfortable dark-gray slacks: check. Itchy white blouse: check. Slightly too-tight flats: check. Jacket that was tough to move in: check. It was my official "first day on the job, dress to impress" outfit. Once I took a gander at what everyone else was wearing, I'd adjust.

_"You're already qualified, really. Not many people know of the existence of alien life outside our solar system."_

My fingers wove strands of my ashy-brown hair into a single braid; it lay flat at the center of my back, barely reaching the bottom of my shoulder blades. They plucked short bangs into position in front of my face. Every lock in place. I smoothed back strays and tamed them with hairspray.

_"You can be schooled for whatever position you'd like."_

The last addition of makeup concealed the visible scars peeking out from under the v-line of my shirt: gnarled burn scars that wrapped from shoulder blade to clavicle. An alien symbol denoting that I was more than human. That there was someone waiting for my call.

But it didn't feel like _me_ if I couldn't see them. I stared at my reflection a while, then washed the makeup away. If people started to complain I would cover them up, but I wasn't ashamed.

They were a badge of honor.

_"We'll be in touch when you finish high school."_

Even now, years after the accident, I found it difficult to stand in one place for too long. My legs ached, but at least I could walk on my own. Two more surgeries later, I didn't need a cane.

I stood back from the mirror, straightened my clothes one last time, and took a few deep breaths. Hanging from the corner of my vanity was a talisman made of leather and fangs. I ran my fingertips over the line of digit-sized teeth, then turned away to my dresser.

_"There's a series of background checks. You'll need a certain level of security clearance to work with us. It could take a while, on top of all the training. . . ."_

As was becoming habit, I pulled open the third drawer from the bottom and shoved aside my shirts, revealing the computer Wolf had loaned me. I flipped the top back to show the strange symbols, and, with a finger, pantomimed the sequence that would call him to me.

All I hoped was that he hadn't forgotten me. The last thing I needed was to wait for one of his kind to show up to hunt us, then have to convince them to take me along for the ride.

Though, wasn't that was his mark was for?

With the code now committed not only to memory, but to my mind, body, and soul, I buried the piece of technology once more before heading out the door. The government had paid for my move and provided rent vouchers until I started receiving pay checks.

Twenty years old and I already had a career, no matter how temporary. I couldn't help the shit-eating grin that pulled at my lips. _Here I come, motherfuckers._

I had a job to do.


End file.
